


Light My Fire

by Feathers7501, ioascc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dragon!Castiel, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Soul Bond, coffee cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feathers7501/pseuds/Feathers7501, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc
Summary: On a bleary Sunday morning, Dean Winchester pulls down his favorite coffee mug to find the smallest dragon, curled up fast asleep at the bottom.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks, Feathers here. I just want to say a really quick thank you to some awesome people.  
>  Firstly, ioascc! You rock. Thanks for urging me on, and picking up the slack when my mojo vanished. I love working with you xx  
>  Secondly Kerri Ann who drew our gorgeous Dragon! Thank you!  
>  And thirdly, my friend JeanJeanie for the beautiful line drawing of our dragon asleep. Mwahhh!!!  
>  Thanks for reading!!!
> 
> And a thank you to our betas, abnormal_ace & CallenoftheNorth! ;)

Every night, illuminated only by an old teddy bear nightlight, Mary Winchester would curl in bed with her sons, Sam and Dean, and tell them the most fantastical tales. Stories of elves, gnomes, fae, dwarves, wizards, and sometimes even dragons. With a hushed voice, she would send her boys off to sleep dreaming of magic and monsters. Dean loved all of his mother’s stories, but he really loved the tales about dragons.

“Now Dean,” she would whisper, “If you are ever to come across a dragon you must tickle underneath his chin.” She would always tickle him, eliciting raucous giggles from Dean. “But most importantly, treat him with kindness and respect. In turn, he will also treat you with respect and kindness.”

Dean would always ask Mary if he’d become rich if he found a dragon. Mary, ever wise, would always reply, “You will be rich beyond your wildest imagination.”

Yawning and still half asleep, Dean makes his way to the kitchen. He’s done this dance a million times before and knows he only needs to be partially awake to make coffee. He fills the glass pot from his tap, blurrily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he fills the reservoir, he can hear the telltale sound of water splashing all over his counter behind the cheap eight dollar rickety coffee pot. Sighing, he throws the tea towel proclaiming “ _Eat Up, Bitches!_ ” that he got from Charlie behind the offending appliance. _Stupid piece of shit,_ Dean thinks, _should get one of those fancy machines Sammy is always talking about that starts on its own_. Eye-balling it, because he doesn’t have the mental energy to use the fucking scoop, he shakes the grounds into the basket for a full pot. Dropping his head back, he lets out a loud groan and drags his hands down his face, he sends out silent pleas for this day to be a good day. Stumbling over to the window above the sink he stares out without seeing, scratching his belly absently as he waits for the damned appliance to stop percolating.

Dean is used to the early mornings, doesn’t mean he enjoys them. It’s Sunday and he’s got to get ready for the week, he goofed off yesterday and today is the day he gets all of his chores done. Dean would much rather still be curled beneath the covers, warm and cozy on this cold day. His Mom always said that Dean was her little Bear. he chuckles at the thought of being called a “little” anything these days. Broad of shoulder and just over six feet he vaguely remembers feeling small, and warm, and loved.

The coffee machine breaks his reverie, and he reaches for his favourite mug. It's a warm blue colour with a dancing characterized pie printed on the outside. Sammy gave it to him as a joke one year, for a whilte elephant gift, but Dean likes it. He likes the bright blue against the stark white of his other coffee mugs. It feels right in his hand and holds just enough coffee to wake him up, but not enough that it goes cold before he’s finished. These days - it’s the small things.

As he pulls the mug from the shelf, he feels an extra heft, the mug is a bit heavier than expected. Instead of pouring the scalding black coffee straight in, Dean peers into his mug.

And blinks… coffee pot in one hand, blue mug in the other.

There’s something in his mug - but Dean’s half-asleep mind cannot believe what his eyes are telling him. There’s a small dragon, curled up fast asleep in the bottom of his favourite mug. Shiny scales line the small body of the dragon, so dark blue they appear black. Blindly setting the coffee pot back down onto the hot plate, he doesn’t take his eyes off of the small reptilian creature. Rubbing his eyes with his other hand, Dean convinces himself that some sleep crusties are somehow creating this visage of a dragon.

Blinking once more, he realizes that no, the dragon is still there and he’s very much real. He very slowly places the mug into the morning sun on the counter and the dragon rolls onto it’s back to reveal its lighter underbelly and chin. Hesitantly, he remembers the advice his mother would tease before bed. With his pointer finger, shakily he rubs underneath the dragon’s chin. A quick brush and he jerks his hand back. The dragon slowly cracks his eyes open, looking pleased as can be and wiggles in the cup, Dean recognizes it as the universal sign of wanting more chin scratches. With a little more confidence, Dean crooks his finger and scratches the dragon one more time.

Letting out pleased noises, the dragon flicks its tail back and forth while Dean runs his finger along the smooth planes of the scales. He’s hot to the touch and not slimy like many people think imaginary dragons are. Dean can’t believe his mother was right! She had always said that dragons and other mythical creatures were not just figments of a vivid imagination, that there were too many stories, from too many places in the world that consistently referred to dragons and other faerie creatures. Mary swore that she had once seen a dragon flying in the distance on the heels of a great thunderstorm. Dean now fully believes her stories.

“Whatcha doing here?” Dean questions out loud to the slow blinking eyes of his new friend, “Not that I mind you visiting, but a man’s gotta have his coffee.”

The dragon blinks back, eyes sleepy. He watches as the dragon flips over and snuggles back into the bottom of the cup. Dean leaves the mug in the sunlight and grabs another one from his open shelving. Pouring his coffee he muses out loud.

“You know, that’s my favorite coffee cup. I don’t mind you taking a little nap but man, don’t make a habit of it. There are plenty of coffee cups on this shelf,” Dean gestures to the rest of the coffee mugs stacked neatly in a row, “Really, I should stick you outside but because it’s freakin’ freezing you can stay and chill. Not doing anything anyways.”

Taking a sip of coffee, he leans against the counter with the dragon next to him and lets his eyelids droop closed enjoying the coffee and slipping into a morning fog of thoughts. He’s been alone for quite some time now, and having someone to speak to is nice even if it is a little dragon. He’s been divorced for a few years now, Lisa remarried and he’s no longer Ben’s father figure. Sam is married to Eileen and has kids of his own, plus Riot and Bones, Sam’s dogs. His parents are doing well, staying busy with the garage and Mom’s hobbies.

Dean’s life has become predictable. Monday through Friday, he goes to work restoring cars with Bobby at his garage. When he clocks out at five, he comes home, showers, eats, watches some TV, passes out, gets up and goes to bed officially. Saturday and Sunday he usually does odd projects around his house or his parent’s place. Painting, cutting the grass, fixing the sink, or other chores that his Mom can’t (or shouldn’t) do. It’s monotonous and Dean’s in a funk.

Really, finding a dragon in his cup is the most exciting thing that has happened to Dean in the past five years. Feeling like he’s being watched, Dean jerks back out of his reverie and peers over to the dragon hanging half out of the cup watching him with intense blue eyes. They remind him of the Carribean sea.

“Hello dragon,” Dean says, crooking his finger and scratching his chin again, “You hungry? I could whip up some bacon and eggs for the two of us? Would you like that?”

With a perfunctory nod from the dragon, Dean sets about his task. Getting his large skillet ready, he grabs the occupied mug and places it next to the stove. The dragon resting its long head on its front talons on the rim of his mug. Throwing the bacon into one side of the pan, Dean switches on his kitchen radio to the classic rock station.

“You should have a name if you're going to hang out with me,” Dean says in the midst of singing CCR’s “Who’ll stop the rain.” The dragon watches on, his snout arranged in a smile while Dean sings along to Foggerty’s lyrics.

“Can’t keep calling you dragon if you are going to chow down on my bacon with me,” Dean comments, clicking the tongs to flip the greasy bacon, “Calling you Coffee Dragon is kinda stupid. But I like the idea... I mean you are camped out in my favorite mug. I only put the best coffee in that mug. Best part of waking up.”

He sings the jingle, using the greasy tongs as a mic. The dragon flicks his tail and wiggles his ears. The mirth in those intelligent eyes is infectious as he watches Dean’s every move.

“Folgers it is,” Dean laughs while cracking eggs and putting them into the pan, “If only my family could see me now, they’d think I’d lost my marbles.”

Transferring the bacon from the pan to a plate, Dean cracks some eggs while munching on a leftover rasher. He rips off a piece and hands it over to Folgers, who gobbles it up readily. Popping some bread in the toaster he dances around the kitchen while he cooks the eggs, shimmying his hips as he brandishes a spatula. Dean scrambles the eggs soft because he doesn’t know how to cook them any other way and he divides them between himself and Folgers.

Dean places Folger’s plate next to his at the table. Scooping up the mug and the dragon, he places them down close to him. Folgers crawls out of the mug and digs into his feast, sitting easily on the table. Dean watches his new friend devour his breakfast with zeal. The little guy must have been hungry for quite some time.

“You know,” Dean says aloud “My mom would be hella pleased that you exist,” Dean says munching on his toast, “She’s always said mythical creatures have a basis in reality. But as much as I’d love to ring her up right now, I think you hanging out with me will remain our little secret.”

Folgers looks at him serenely, ever intelligent eyes showing that he understands what Dean is saying.

The dragon stays in the coffee cup through the morning, alternately napping and watching Dean go about his Saturday chores. Folgers watches with bright-eyed interest as Dean takes his clothes to the laundry room and sorts them into the machine. Dean tilts his head back and laughs at the startled jump the dragon gives when the washing machine begins the first spin cycle. Dean’s glad he didn’t leave the dragon in what is fast becoming his coffee cup on the top of the machine.

Dean chatters as he works, not expecting a reply. He tells Folgers about his job, the guys he works with, the house and all the work he’s done on it, Sammy… all the minutiae that make up Dean Winchester’s boring run-of-the-mill life.

“And Sammy, he has these crazy dogs, took me a while to warm up to them I’ll admit, but they’ve turned out good for mutts. Don’t tell Sammy I said that though, I like to complain about the drool and the hair - keeps Sammy on the back foot, y’know?” Dean is emptying the pockets of the clothes next to be washed as he talks.

“Bobby has been awesome, Y’know? He used to let me work on classic cars and said I had a knack for it. Dunno know about that, buddy; but the first Lincoln Continental I worked on I will never forget.”

Dean looks over at the dragon for confirmation to find that he has left the coffee cup and is exploring the countertop. Emptying out his pockets of his work overalls, Dean finds a handful of small change, lint, and a gas station receipt. Without thought, the coins go into a jar on the counter, and the lint and receipt are cast into the trash. The coins clank loudly into the glass, making his new friend stand on his back legs. With wide eyes, Folgers beelines for the coins. Dean laughs to himself and mutters, “Well, what d'you know.”

Folgers reaches the shallow jar and starts to climb in before halting and looking back at Dean questioningly. “Go ahead, buddy. Climb in if that’s what’ll make you happy.” Folgers does just that, he clambers into the jar and sits atop the small pile of coins. The coins make a light clinking sound as Folgers draws more toward his lap with his claws.

“You want those?” Dean asks watching the small dragon with his paws spread possessively over the small hoard. Folgers looks at him with disbelief in those big blue eyes and nods slowly.

“All yours, Folgers a whole dollar and ten in change! If you want I could bring it for you?” and the dragon nods again, more confidently.

Folgers has climbed out, so Dean picks up the jar of coins, there are a few pen tops and bottle caps as well, but he doubts the dragon will mind. He looks over at Folgers who continues his exploration of the counter top. The dragon weaves and bobs through his odds and ends. His lithe body moving like a fast current between the spray and wash, bleach, some random socks that will never find mates. Folgers halts and curiously paws at the laundry powder in its box.

The laundry powder makes him sneeze violently, sparking little flames, giving Dean a look of reproach.

“Hey,” he says, holding up his hand “You wanted to explore, buddy. Not my fault.”

Folgers doesn’t look at Dean as he makes his way back to the coffee cup, clearly in a huff. His entire body language is quick and jerky and so obviously frustrated at Dean’s laughter.

Dean feels bad now, he’s just hurt the feelings of a pint-sized dragon that has done nothing except keep him company through the morning. He puts down the coins, picks up the coffee cup, and peers in. Folgers has curled up again with a paw strategically placed over his snout and his eyes closed. Dean huffs a silent laugh, the dragon is being very dramatic.

“Hey, buddy?” He waits for a sign that the dragon is relenting. “Wanna sandwich?” Dean sees the tip of the dragon’s tail twitch. “I can do turkey and cranberry on rye with mayo?” One blue eye and then the other open slowly. An even slower nod indicates the little dragon has heard and is ready to interact again. Dean smiles and grabs the “hoard” and then more carefully the coffee cup, cradling it to his chest for the short walk back through the house to the kitchen.

He detours to the bedroom, fiddling through his jewelry box and pulling out a ring that he used to wear in his early twenties. He treated it as a beer bottle opener so it’s gotten a few scrapes and dings into it. He slides it into the mug along with the coins from the laundry, “Here you go, Folgers, something even more special just for you.”

Folgers spins excitedly at the bottom of the cup, the ring hooking around his tail. His entire fun-sized body thrums with excitement. Dean scratches underneath his chin, Folgers affectionately licking his hand. Turning on his kitchen radio, Dean sings “Renegade” to himself and Folgers, placing the mug in the sunshine that shines through his window.

Folgers quickly leaves his “hoard'' in the mug when the bread and sandwich makings are taken from the cupboards and fridge, becoming increasingly curious with all the steps involved in the sandwich-making process.

Making a sandwich is an art Dean Winchester has perfected over many years. Making a sandwich with an overly inquisitive and attentive dragon solemnly attempting to help has him in stitches of laughter. There’s mayo on the kitchen counter, three slices of bread have been torn by unpracticed claws and tossed aside, and there are bite marks in the stick of butter. How the dragon got into the butter when he’s not even using it a mystery in itself.

Dean leans against the sink, literally holding his sides as he laughs, his stomach muscles hurting and his cheeks aching. He cannot remember the last time he laughed with such absolute abandon, but this little dragon, Folgers, he reminds himself, takes the cake.

“You are awesome, buddy but slow down! No!” Dean exclaims as Folgers attempts to climb right into the cranberry sauce jar. “Dude, awww now you’re all sticky, not awesome.”

Folgers falls from the cranberry sauce jar, his face smeared in the sticky fruit. He looks so affronted, tilting his head in confusion at Dean’s brays of laughter, while his tail whips back and forth with the effort of trying to lick off the remaining preserve. Dean wipes at his eyes and holds out his hands for his little friend, grabbing his kitchen towel and dampening it, he wipes the dragon’s face tenderly. “It’s been a long time since I laughed that hard,” Dean comments wiping the cranberry off Folger’s chest, “More than a long time… years.”

Dean’s quiet while the music plays in the background, a wave of melancholy rising up. He never noticed truly how lonely he was until this moment, just now, and he hopes that his new friend will stick around. It’d be nice to have a companion. Dean idly thinks about signing up for a dating website and quickly dismisses the thought, he doesn’t have the time or energy to go through and weed out women and men to find the right “fish” for him.

“Let’s make that sandwich, huh?” Dean states. Folgers crawls up his arm to rest on his shoulder, his hot breath tickling Dean’s neck. It’s comforting and he pets the dragon, his fingers dragging against the warm scales as he puts together their lunch.

The majority of the day is spent that way, Folgers either in his mug or on Dean’s shoulders while Dean does his other chores. He dusts, vacuums, and gets his work laundry done for the week. When he finally finishes and after the two of them have dinner together, Folgers snuggles in the middle of Dean’s chest underneath his shirt while Dean watches some of his TV programs he didn’t get the chance to watch the past week. The dragon’s body curled up and close to Dean’s heart. His head poking out of the collar resting on the slope of Dean’s collar bone. Occasionally, the dragon’s tongue sneaks out to lick the salt of Dean’s skin, a pleased look on his long face.

Folgers blinks lazily at him as Dean pears down through his eyelashes, “Sleep buddy, I’ll watch over you.”

He doesn’t have to tell Folgers twice, the dragon falls asleep quickly. Dean can feel the rise and fall of his chest and the exhalation of warm air against his neck. It's comforting and Dean watches Dr. Sexy, MD with a soft smile on his face the entire time.

Dean’s Monday morning alarm blares, bringing him out of peaceful slumber. Letting out a loud groan, while one arm reaches out blindly to slap at his clock to turn the infernal noise off, Dean sleepily takes stock of how he’s feeling this morning. He’s got some of the aches and pains of being a man in his forties, but overall he feels good. He feels unbelievably good, the body curled up against him is warm and heavy against his chest. Dean melts into the strong arms wrapped around him. The tuft of soft hair underneath his chin smells like a crisp wood fire and miles of naked flesh is pressed up against his own. It feels like fucking heaven.

Sluggishly, Dean’s brain slowly makes his way out of the fog of pleasure and comes to life realizing there is a person tucked up against him. Dean swears he went to bed with Folgers and only Folgers. Dean is frozen with fear as the man stirs awake, his nose nuzzling Dean’s throat and his lips placing an open- mouthed kiss to Dean’s clavicle. The man’s eyes are still closed and he lets out a soft sigh of pleasure after he tastes Dean’s skin.

“Mornin’,” the man slurs, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“ _Who the fuck are you?_ ” Dean croaks out, voice dangerously bordering on hysterical. Dean tries his best to create distance between the two of them, but the strange man just scoots closer, all warm skin and grabby hands as Dean tries to move away.

The stranger cracks open his eyes, Dean staring down into the intense blue that is so familiar. The man hums, a deep rumbling noise, while he flips on his back and cards his fingers through his hair ruffling it up even more. Licking his lips, the man rumbles out, “You Christened me Folgers yesterday, which I must say is only a slight improvement on what my parents named me.”

Dumbfounded, Dean stares at the younger man as he stretches and lets out pleased noises in the morning light. Dean’s ring on the man’s ring finger glinting. “You’re my dragon?” Dean lets out dumbly, staring at the broad shoulders and golden skin of the gorgeous man next to him.

“Yes, Dean,” the man replies simply, his eyes so intense and blue that Dean knows that without a doubt that his dragon and this man are one and the same. It all clicks in Dean’s mind... Folger’s intelligence, the fact that Dean felt like he was having a real conversation, and the fact that Folgers got into his house in the first place!

“You showered with me last night!” Dean exclaims, feeling the flush of embarrassment coursing through him.

With a little grin and a coy look, the man kisses Dean’s shoulder, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about Dean, you are beyond beautiful in your pleasure.”

Sputtering, Dean throws up his hands and quickly gets out of bed, “You were a small cute dragon! Almost a pet! I would have never… I wouldn’t!”

“Come back to bed,” the man intones, sitting up and patting the bed, “I’ve never interacted with a guardian before. Don’t be mad.”

“I am mad!” Dean exclaims, “And embarrassed. Even disturbed, a little! You broke into my house!”

His solemn eyes stare steadily at Dean, while the man dragon fiddles with the sheets and blankets in his hands, “My apologies, Dean. We may have had a misunderstanding. You had the symbol hanging outside your door welcoming dragons inside and I was looking for refuge. But… I’ll go.”

“Symbol?” Dean stops him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes,” the man says nodding, “On a plaque under ‘Winchester.’”

Realization creeps in, his Mom gave him that for his birthday last year. She had told him she was dabbling in woodworking as a hobby and so he had hung the plaque up next to his back door. Etched along with their last name was a dragon flying with a rider on his back.

“No, no, it’s ok,” Dean says, sinking into the mattress next to the dragon-man.

“So I can stay?” he questions, almost placing a hand on Dean’s back but pulling it back, “I’d like to stay. My older brother, Gabriel, is the only one I’ve ever met that has had a guardian before. No one has been claimed since the Dark Ages.”

“Guardian?”

“A dragon guardian, the symbol,” the man says, his deep voice quieting. Folger’s eyes, this man’s eyes filling with sadness.

“My mom, she made me that,” Dean explains, rubbing his mouth forlornly, “I didn’t know what it meant. I bet she did though.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Clearing his throat, the man nods sadly, “Well, I’ll just go then.”

Watching him make motions to leave, Dean only hesitates briefly, “No, don’t. Tell me, what does a guardian do?”

Brightening visibly and scooting closer to Dean, the younger man shines with quiet happiness. “Dragon guardians were once companions to dragons, or dragons were companions to guardians. They looked after each other, protected each other, and even lived together. At my full size, we can even fly together.”

Dean feels a little green at just the thought of riding a dragon through the air. But he listens to the dragon with rapt attention as he enthusiastically goes on, “A guardian’s bond is more profound than any bond and I can feel the start of one with you.”

Before any more declarations can be said, Dean interrupts, “What's your name?”

“Castiel,” the man states, Castiel states.

“And how old are you Castiel?” Dean asks, looking at the youthful and breathtakingly beautiful man in front of him. Big cerulean eyes, sharp cheekbones, fluffy dark hair, golden skin taut over defined muscles. Castiel has a runner’s build, only marginally shorter than his own six feet. Dusky pink nipples are stark against his flawless chest. Dean’s bed linens pool in Castiel’s lap, barely covering the sharp hip bones.

“I am one hundred and thirty years old,” replies Castiel, solemnly.

“Do you bathe in Olay?” Dean guffaws.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel replies hesitantly.

“You look young,” answers Deans, gesturing with his hand to all of Castiel.

“My species exist on a different plane of existence the majority of our lives, it causes us to age differently than humans. I estimate that I’m about twenty-six in your human years,” Castiel murmurs, licking his bottom lip and playing with Dean’s ring on his finger. Spinning and twisting the ring, Castiel is hesitant to meet Dean’s eyes, “I want to stay here. Please let me stay here. I… I need somewhere to lay low where my clan cannot find me.”

“Alright, you’ve said that and I am more than happy to have you stay with me, but you gotta pull your weight. We are going to be like partners, right?” waiting for a nod from Castiel before Dean continues on, “So here’s the deal...it’s Monday, man… and I own a garage that fixes cars and I’ve got to go in today. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself and I could use someone to answer the phones.… So do you know how to work a phone?”

“No, I’ve never worked a phone. Dragons speak telepathically,” Cas answers, looking a little disappointed.

“I’ll teach you, in the meantime, let's get you some clothes,” Dean states, pulling out his dresser and rummaging through his shirts, “It’s not hard learning people skills, anyone can do it, and you’ll be a pro before you know.”

Dean turns to hand Castiel a shirt, bumping into the naked man. Blushing, Dean can’t stop his eyes from wandering. He takes in the broad shoulders, the tapering of Castiel’s waist, and then down past those sharp hip bones. Dean’s eyes follow the dark happy trail that leads to one of the biggest cocks he’s ever had the pleasure of viewing in person. His dragon is hung, uncut, with trim dark hair. Dean looks away quickly, feeling the stirring of arousal in his own groin. He squashes it before it gets out of hand. Clearing his throat he looks up at Castiel, who is looking at him steadily with one eyebrow cocked in an authoritative manner.

“Shirt for today,” Dean says, pushing a warm henley at Castiel’s chest, “Lesson one, personal space. You can’t stand that close to me.”

Castiel never steps out of Dean’s space, but he takes the henley and slowly puts it on while Dean looks for boxers for him. Handing Castiel some boxer briefs, Dean watches Castiel dress slowly. Dean would have never guessed that putting on clothes could look so sexy. Seeing his underpants slowly drag over the fine hairs over another man’s legs and then over those thick thighs does things to Dean. Dean’s eyes are glued to Castiel’s hands as he tucks his cock into the boxer briefs. Huge hands, long fingers dipping below the waistband to cup and maneuver it into place. Fuck, is all Dean can think.

“Pants,” Dean breathes out and pulls out a pair to hand to Castiel. Castiel takes them and Dean watches the denim slowly encase his skin, silently wishing it was his own hands gliding up those legs.

“Alright, let's go eat. Get to work,” Dean nods, feeling as skittish as a newborn colt.

“Dean,” Castiel says, voice serious and teasing at the same time, “You need to get dressed too.”

Looking down at himself, he then realizes that he’s standing only in his boxers. “Yeah, uh, yeah. Me too,” he stammers out feeling ridiculous.

Cooking breakfast is a stilted affair, Castiel’s curious nature is still a heavily prevalent character trait even in human form. Dean bumps into him, steps on his toes, and at one point Castiel burns himself on the frying pan. Dean sits him down at the kitchen table, intent on administering first aid to see the man magically heal himself. He seems so quietly pleased with himself that Dean can’t even be mad. It was pretty awesome, a wave of a glowing hand, and the burn was instantly gone. They eat breakfast quickly and go over what Castiel needs to do when he answers the phone. It’s hasty, but Dean lets Castiel know what questions to ask the clients and what to write down for Dean to look over. Castiel takes it all in, his eyes never leaving Dean’s even as he’s being ushered towards the Impala. He’s docile when he gets into the car, but Castiel startles violently when Dean starts her up.

He’s already insanely late for work, Bobby blowing up his phone with calls and text messages. Biting his lip, Dean holds out his hand for Castiel who grabs it like a lifeline, “It’s alright Cas, just the engine. Good cars sound like this once they get going.”

“I’ve never been in a vehicle,” Cas slowly whispers, looking around and glaring at the offending engine through the dash, “Before yesterday… I had not even seen cars, the last time I visited this plane I was just a child. Cars… cars weren’t what they are today. And when I reached my majority, I was not allowed to leave our home.”

“You're 130, man. You tellin’ me that your parents had you on house arrest the entire time?” Dean asks, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the hand that is practically crushing his own.

“I was disobedient,” Cas says, a frown maring his lips and he releases Dean’s hand, “I didn’t follow orders. I didn’t like the matches that my parents put before me.”

Letting out a laugh, Dean puts the Impala in drive and they make their way to the shop. “No lady dragons start your fire?”

“No, I was not interested in them,” Cas replies, solemnly. His eyes never quite leaving the dash to look at Dean.

Dean can't help but to feel a sense of foreboding sink into his gut, turning on the radio to blast The Doors as a distraction. Dean sings along, a few songs later and the short drive has ended. He’s pulling in front of his shop. Killing the engine, he hops out. Pulling the jacket tight to his body, he darts in, Cas ever his shadow practically on his heels. Avoiding Bobby’s curious looks, he sets Castiel up in the office. Showing him how to answer the phones and he dives into work… praying to all the deities to make the day go fast.

The day goes by torturously slowly. Dean dodges questions until lunchtime, both from Bobby and from his own mind. He keeps busy, not thinking about the dragon who wishes to stay with him until lunchtime. He sets Castiel up with a burger and fries from the diner down the street. They both happily eat in the office while Dean looks over the notes Castiel took down. Cas did a decent job, recording messages for Dean. Castiel’s writing is an elegant, beautiful script that makes Dean feel a little guilty for making him write on scratch paper. Cas has also tidied up the office a little, his horde still in its mug and carefully perched on Dean’s desk close to hand.

Dean is beyond thankful for the help, but he can’t help chuckling to himself when he sees the mug of coins. He leaves Cas in the office and is cornered by Bobby.

“So, who’s your new friend?”

“Name’s Cas,” Dean answers, intent on keeping it short and returning to the engine of a 1979 Ford.

“He’s a bit different,” gruffs Bobby.

“He is,” Dean hedges, unsure of how to respond.

“Nice guy,” Bobby comments.

Dean grunts, diving down into the belly of the engine. He works his bottom lip between his teeth. Questions about dragons on the tip of his tongue.

“Bobby…” he asks tentatively as he lifts his head from the engine.

“Yeah, son?”

Dean wipes his hands on an oily rag and leans his butt against the front quarter panel. He feels apprehension about talking to Bobby… but Bobby is Bobby. He’s not going to laugh at Dean or make him feel stupid.

“Bobby, did Mom ever mention to you anything about her mythical creatures theory? About them being real?” He ducks his head, feeling the blush grow on his cheeks, “I mean, you’ve known Mom forever, Dad too, back in the day and I just wondered...” He tapers off, embarrassed. “Never mind, It’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

“Boy? Stop right there, it’s obviously not nothin’, not when you turn up to work with a young dragon in tow.”

Dean’s head jerks up so fast he nearly collides with the opened hood “What?, He’s not, he couldn’t possibly be, you don’t...” stammers Dean, hesitantly meeting Bobby’s eye.

The older man is hiding a smirk beneath his greying beard. “You think I was born yesterday, son? Or do you think because I’m old I’m stupid? I know a dragon when I see one, and your Mom would too. What’s goin’ on, Dean?” Bobby’s tone grows more gentle, and he sits himself astride one of the old chairs scattered around.

Dean grabs another chair and drags it closer to Bobby, and he starts, “Well, I was just making a cup of coffee the other morning, and went to grab my favourite cup…” Dean’s story meanders somewhere in the middle, voice trailing about how curious Castiel is and how he got into the butter but eventually, Dean gets back on track, “...and he pointed out the plaque that Mom made me for my birthday last year - it actually means it’s a safe house, or I’m a guardian or something? He said we had the start of a bond.”

Bobby has listened with full attention to Dean’s tale, never letting his face reveal a thing except for a knowing look in his eyes.

“Son, I think you know you got a Dragon there who has chosen you as his guardian. That ain’t no passing whim, that’s a responsibility and an honor to folks like us. You get to know him, look after him and provide for him, son and you will never regret it. That’s all I’m gonna say right now until I talk to your Mom.”

The rest of the day passes with Dean in deep thought. He thinks about Castiel, what it means to look after another person… and how lonely he’s been recently, caught in the same old rut for the past few years. How Castiel had alluded that he’s running away from home. He finishes and washes up, calling goodbye to Bobby as he collects Castiel from the office. Through the large reception window, he sees Cas before the dragon sees him. Cas is perched on the office chair, idly spinning in circles first one way then another. It’s pretty adorable if Dean dares to admit it to himself. His hoard is close by on the edge of the desk, but even from this angle it seems to have gained some items. He can see a couple of shiny chrome washers and a paperclip on top of the coins.

“Cas! C’mon man, we’re done for the day, let's go!”

Bobby watches as Dean and his new friend laugh as they reach the Impala, both jumping in their respective sides as they hurry to leave work and head home. Bobby can hear the radio blaring as the Impala leaves the lot and heads in the direction of Dean’s home. He shakes his head, and with a knowing smile mutters to himself, “Damn fool has no idea.”

Mary invites them over before they all go to the annual winter carnival hosted by their small town. Dean digs through his cedar chest, pulling out clothing for Cas that hasn’t been in the rotation of their usual shared wardrobe of flannels and jeans. They’ve spent so much time just the two of them… Dean’s a little nervous for Sam and Mary to meet Castiel. For the past few weeks, Castiel has been coming to work with Dean each day. The dragon has kept himself occupied with organizing and running Dean’s business life and he’s proven himself to be an invaluable asset. Castiel has the shop running very smoothly, better at time logs, taxes, and overall HR crap than all the men in the shop combined. Dean thinks it is his meticulous attention to detail, Cas makes it his business to know where every washer, car part, and invoice is at any one time.

At work they keep a professional distance, Dean wanting all of his workers to see Cas as the office manager of sorts, but at home… his dragon is glued to him. Either as a man or an actual small dragon. It’s not uncommon for Castiel to shift into “Folgers” and to rest in the middle of Dean’s chest under his clothes while they watch TV. They share a bed, Castiel snuggled around Dean, his little scaled face usually tucked into the back of Dean’s neck. His rhythmic breath of deep sleep on the nape of Dean’s neck lulling him to sleep. Castiel, always blaming the cold, curls around Dean all the time.

It’s intimate and comforting and Dean definitely knows how it looks. His heart also knows he’s not going to give up his dragon snuggles any time soon. If this is what it means to be a keeper… he’s signed up and 100% willing to do it. No one, not in his adult life has held him like Castiel does. Castiel treasures Dean. Everything would be absolutely perfect, but Dean is hyper-aware that Castiel looks very young compared to his aging ass out in public.

Sitting on the wood floor, going through all of his winter things, Dean pulls out a thickly knitted sweater, cream, and pretty that Eileen bought him a few Christmasses ago. He feels Castiel’s arms wrap around his torso, his chilled nose pressing into Dean’s hairline.

“What are you doing?” Castiel mumbles, his cold hands searching the hem of Dean’s shirt and slipping underneath his Henley. His muscles tighten against the chill of Cas’ big hands, letting out a hiss of discomfort but he swallows the exclamation. Poor Cas is always saying he is cold despite that fact he feels very warm.

“Finding layers for you, we’ll be outside tonight,” Dean answers, pulling Cas closer.

“I got the ice off of Baby,” Cas sighs, his fingers splayed along Dean’s torso pressing into him. His nose nuzzling and his lips dragging against Dean’s neck.

“I could have done that,” Dean half-heartedly scolds, pulling out wool hats and scarves from the pile.

“I’ll warm up soon, I’ve got you,” Cas basks in Dean’s body heat.

“Heat leach,” teases Dean, but Cas just presses closer to him and hums a noncommittal noise. Dean sorts the clothing, smelling like cedar from the chest, between Castiel’s legs with Cas pressed up close to his back.

“We are going to be late for your mother’s,” Cas finally mentions, fingers wiggling now they are warm. Dean grunts, passing along the cream sweater and winter things to him. Cas dutifully pulls them on, looking adorable and snuggly. The Pom-pom on his head and multicolored scarf around his neck only adding to his youthfulness. He bundles Cas in the car, earning a goofy smile from his dragon, one of Dean’s throw blankets is a permanent fixture in his Baby against the cool leather.

Dean nervously drives to his mother’s house, hands strumming against the wheel. His mind is full of whirling thoughts. Mary has always been supportive of everything he’s done. Switching over his Dad’s garage to strictly restoration with Bobby, his divorce from Lisa, and when he eventually came out to his family as bisexual. He would hate to think what his Dad would say nowadays, but he sadly passed away from a stroke when Dean was in his late twenties. Bobby was accepting of the otherworldly arrangement that Dean has with Castiel, but Bobby is Bobby… so easy going and laid back it’s ridiculous.

Dean doesn’t know how Sammy and his Mom will feel about rolling up with a man technically sixteen years his junior. He thinks they’ll be alright. Dean’s probably overthinking the entire situation anyway. His nerves stem from the fact that Sam’s adopted son Jack is closer in age to Castiel, at twenty years old, than he himself is. He’s probably making the whole situation weirder than it is in his head. Blowing things out of proportion. Right? As uncertainty fills him, he takes a little comfort that he’s not actually a cradle snatcher since technically they aren’t officially _together together,_ everything has been platonic cuddles. And that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“I can tell you are ruminating,” Castiel comments when they pull up into Mary’s driveway and exit the car. Dean sighs, the crisp grass and dead leaves crunching underneath their feet.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Dean replies, knocking on the door and then entering, “Ma! It’s me.”

“In the kitchen!” Mary calls.

Everyone, as always, is crowded around the kitchen. Eileen, Sam, Jack, Bobby, and Mary. Mary’s face brightens as she sees Dean, Castiel in tow. His mother has aged beautifully, her gray hair artistically styled in a bob.

“Dean baby,” she says, hugging Dean tight and letting him go, “This must be your friend that Bobby was talking to me about. It’s so nice to meet you, Castiel.”

She pulls Castiel into a quick hug and releases him, “I’m Mary, you know Bobby. Sam, Jack, and Eileen.”

“Hello,” Jack waves.

One hand shoved in his pocket, Castiel greets everyone. Dean puts a calming hand in the middle of Castiel’s back when he hears the jingle of coins in Castiel’s pocket. Dean sees the rolling of Castiel’s wrist, knowing his dragon is taking comfort in his hoard.

“Are you enjoying your stay, Castiel?” asks Eileen.

“I am enjoying it greatly, I’m very thankful for finding asylum with Dean,,” Castiel answers earnestly, pulling the beanie from his head.

“I’m glad you found Dean, Castiel. My ancestors were known guardians. We are so honored to have you in the family,” Mary looks concerned at Cas saying he was searching for asylum, but she covers it quickly with a smile, “You’ll let us know if you need anything.”

Dean stares on, completely dumbfounded that everyone is so accepting that Castiel can turn into a freakin’ dragon!

He follows Cas and the rest of his family through to the kitchen, Mary turns and says brightly “We don’t stand on ceremony here, Cas. Dean, find your friend a drink.” With that, she continues through and is soon slicing bread presumably to go with their meal.

Dean and Cas sit side by side at the large kitchen table. The table has obviously seen a lot of the Winchester family. It is large enough to seat maybe 12 comfortably and has a clean yet worn surface. Today the table is set with a gingham placemat set directly on the wood. The basket of freshly cut warm bread and a vase of wildflowers grace the centre.

“Mom?” Dean asks once everyone settles. “Mom, how come you never told me about any of this, the guardian thing, the plaque you gave me last year, just…” Dean loses his words and instead gestures wildly at Cas, and then just generally around the warm room. “Y'know, all of it?”

Mary’s hands still, and Dean sees that Bobby is watching her closely.

Wiping her hands on a tea towel she comes over to the table and sits opposite Cas and Dean. The rest of the family fill the seats around them.

Mary leans forward and looks at Dean, and then at Castiel next to him.

“Dean, our whole family have been guardians, Bobby’s family too. From the beginning of history up to your grandparents.” She looks around the table to catch Bobby’s eye. He gives a nod, and the set of his shoulders settle, as he gets up and darts into his mother’s office.

Dean looks at Cas, looks over at the younger man sitting next to him, he seems so comfortable, so relaxed in this room full of strangers. Cas looks back and tilts his head, reminding Dean of how he looks in his dragon form, serious and solemn but curious and inquisitive at the same time.

“Maybe this will help explain,” Bobby says, flipping a large thin book open and sliding it towards Dean/ the smell of old foxed paper fills Dean’s senses over the stew and bread coming from the kitchen. Aging ink dating all the way back to the fifteenth century, fading in curling English and another language Dean doesn’t recognize. Campbell, Winchester, and Singer names line the pages. The families intertwine along with the obscure language.

“My language,” Castiel says softly, pointer finger gliding down the page, “Dragon’s names.”

“Any relative of yours?”

“I see Michael’s name, he’s an ancestor of mine, third grandfather or so but most are people from my court,” Castiel says, pointing out a name.

Dean shifts closer as they both scan the ancient pages. “Here, look, is this Grandpa Henry?” He looks to Mary for her answer.

“It may seem archaic, but it truly is an honor to be chosen, to be a guardian. I’m so happy that you are able to be that for Castiel,” Mary is quiet as she regards Castiel and Dean across the table.

Mary breaks the heavy silence as she hastily rises and scrapes her chair back from the table. She claps her hands sharply and asks everyone to help serve the meal. At her beck and call the family scramble to grab the stew, the potatoes, and the bread. Sam makes sure the salad gets to the table, while Bobby grabs some drinks.

“You boys will do just fine,” She clears her throat and in a much more matter of fact tone exclaims, “Dinner’s getting cold - let’s eat!”

Eating quickly, putting the book aside, the family clears up and gathers themselves to walk down to the center of their township. Dean shoves down the growing unease in his chest and decides to just enjoy Castiel and their time together. He enjoys showing off his town. Their city is small, a small community named Keeper’s Hollow, on the outskirts of Lawrence. They’ve got their own downtown, a few shops, and a beautiful square with a gazebo where most of the citizens congregate. Every season is celebrated, but winter is especially so. The town holds a winter carnival with food, contests, and ice skating on the local pond. Dean has always loved the winter carnival and he’s excited to be sharing it with Castiel.

Castiel seems amused with all the booths and the people milling about eating ice cream in the middle of winter. He convinces Dean to purchase hot chocolate and fairy floss, the two sharing the sweet fluffy candy and sipping the hot chocolate. They stay close, shoulders and the back of their hands brushing each other as they walk.

Castiel stops at the pond where a bunch of children are skating. He watches them, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. Dean isn’t watching the kids, he is too focused on the joy that spreads across Castiel’s face. It’s magnetic and so pure. Dean hasn’t ice skated in years, not since he was a child himself, and he immediately wants to share this experience with Castiel.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ shoulders and signaling Sammy to come over and keep Castiel company. He hoofs it back to his Mom’s house, bowed legs speed walking and a big goofy grin on his face. He digs through his mother’s garage, finding what he needs.

He’s almost out of breath when he returns to Castiel at the pond, but he holds up his treasure triumphantly.

“Ice skates,” Dean pants, face pink with exertion but happy. He nabbed two pairs of antique clamp-on ice skates. They were his grandparents' from the 1940s. The steel is like ice in his hands, the metal blades sharp as if they were brand new. Mary prides herself on keeping family heirlooms in working shape. Dean hands a pair to Castiel, who holds them tentatively.

“I don’t know how to skate,” Castiel states, shyly but his eyes never quite waver from the kids zipping around the large pond shouting and giggling at each other.

“I’ll teach you,” Dean says, fixing Castiel’s scarf to be tighter around his neck. What he can see of Castiel’s face is bright pink from the cold. He pulls down Castiel’s beanie to cover his ears.

“Is this ice thick enough?”

“It should be, it’s a bit early in the season but we’ll stay away from the middle just in case,” Dean soothes, leading Castiel over to the bench. He clasps the skates onto Castiel’s boots and then attends to his own. He leads Castiel slowly out onto the ice. Skating backward, Dean steadies Castiel and they putter along. Castiel falls a few times, stumbling to his knees or his butt. His expression of wonder slowly losing its luster and giving way to frustration. Dean glides backwards practically pulling Castiel along with him. Castiel’s hands are clasped in his, long fingers and big palms are gripped like a vise in his own and the tips of Castiel’s fingers are ice cold. He’s all encouragement, even Sam, Eileen, and Jack waving from the bank. No amount of encouragement will tamp Castiel’s nervousness from the kids speeding around them.

“I wish they’d slow down,” Castiel murmurs after a kid bumps into him, jerking him out of Dean’s arms and down on the ice. His dragon glares thunderously at the culprit, he’s all furrowed brows and stormy expression but to Dean, he looks adorably rumpled as he is pouting. Dean can’t help but laugh, pulling Cas to his feet once more.

“It’ll be ok Cas. You are doing great,” Dean mollifies, smoothing out Castiel’s jacket and scarf. He pulls his dragon close, “They’ll stop being trolls and slow down soon. They just smell fresh meat, trying to unsettle you and get a reaction”

“I guess we dragons did the same as young,” Castiel smiles, holding on Dean’s jacket, “When I was learning to fly, Gabriel would delight in swooping and diving on me.”

“Sounds like an older brother,” Dean laughs.

Castiel hums in agreement, while Dean skates a little away from Castiel. The tips of their fingers barely touch. Only over an arm’s length away from the young dragon, towards the middle where there is less traffic. He smiles beautifully at his young friend, all bundled up on the ice. He moves to pull out his phone, to capture a picture to later show Castiel. “Smile!” he jokes but Castiel’s face remains uneasy watching Dean.

“It’s alright,” Dean states, reaching his hands out. His fingers graze Castiel’s cold tips when he suddenly is slammed into the ice. His bones rattle around against the hard ice and his breath leaves his lungs. The large kid falls into him, pushing him straight out onto the thinner ice at the centre of the pond. The black ice cracks loudly beneath their prone bodies, threatening to give way under their combined weight. Everyone stops, frozen in fear. The teenager’s panicked breath loud in Dean’s ear.

“Calm down, stay calm and very still,” Dean says, holding onto the kid, “Someone get us a rope!”

“ _Dean_.” Castiel laments, voice deep and panicked.

“Cas, stay there,” Dean commands, holding out his hand, “It’ll be ok.”

Sam, bless him, scrambles for rope while the ice cracks and groans underneath him. Slow and steady, the teenager is pulled safely on his belly to the bank. Dean remains calm, he knows how to get out of the ice if it breaks...he’s watched a lot of Youtube.

“ _Dean_.” Castiel whimpers, his eyes huge as Dean attempts to slowly belly crawl away from the sharp retort of the ice breaking beneath him.

“Off the ice, Castiel,” Dean shouts, when he hears another stress crack of the pond. Heart racing, he watches as Castiel stumbles towards the shore of the pond. He doesn’t concentrate on himself until Castiel is sitting in the snow, jerkily removing the clamped skates from his boots. The shouts of onlookers, the ice shifting and groaning, and his own heartbeat in his ears slow time for Dean.

Before he knows it...the ice breaks with a sickening crack and the icy black water swallows him whole. The chill slowly seeps into his body. The water stings his eyes, burns his skin. Dean can’t find the break in the ice, he’s gotten turned around somehow in his descent into the freezing water. His fists beat against the barrier above, his lungs burning and knuckles bleeding, but Dean knows he can punch a hole if he tries hard enough. His limbs slow, as filled with lead. Dean feels the cold slip away, he’s starting to feel numb and then the dangerous warmth of sleepiness.

Cold stings his face, jerking his eyes back open. His consciousness sluggishly realizing that the cold sting is the winter wind, and not the freezing water of the pond.

_Dean’s flying_. Cradled in the front claws of an enormous dragon.

“Cas,” he croaks words he can barely hear himself, “you’re so big.” Then Dean slips into darkness once again.

Warmth is the first thing Dean registers when he finally comes to. Then as he drifts back to awareness, Dean feels the soft blankets around him, he hears the soft crackle and popping of wood fire, and the feeling of Castiel’s body pressed up against his back. His arms tight around Dean and Castiel’s knees slotted behind his. He registers his own nudity first, then Castiel’s.

“Cas?” His own voice is raspy and strange to his own ears, but it wakes Castiel from his dozing.

“Dean, I was so worried,” says Castiel

Dean is drowsy, too warm to move. Where just a short time ago he could not imagine ever feeling warm again - here he was somehow wrapped in blankets on one side, and blanketed by the warmth of his friend’s body pressed in a solid line along his back.

“Cas?” Dean tries to turn over but the dragon is having none of it, clasping Dean more closely to his chest and tucking Dean’s head beneath his chin.

“Dean, stay here. You lost so much body heat when you slipped under the ice, I thought I had lost you,” Cas’ voice wavers, and Dean can feel the emotional shudder run through Cas’ body, “I thought I had lost you twice, once to the cold water, and the second time because I could not warm you up. You were so cold, Dean. _So still._ I was frightened.”

Dean wiggles in Cas’ embrace until he is partially facing his young friend. The tips of their noses touch and Castiel turns to rest his head against Dean’s temple, shielding his eyes.

“Cas, you saved me. I’m safe, I’m warm. You did awesome, buddy.” Dean clears his throat and steadfastly ignores the fact that he is naked under the blankets and warmly pressed against another very naked body. “But how did we get back here? Did you drive Baby? What happened to Sam, and Eileen, and the rest of the family? Cas, are they ok?” Dean can hear the panicky rising of his own voice, tensing against the dragon’s embrace.

“Dean, calm down,” Cas soothes and releases Dean from his embrace to clasp him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Your car is here, Sam brought her. The family is fine, they are just waiting for one of us to call to say you’ve woken up and warmed up.”

Dean turns in Castiel’s arms, the warmth from the open fire now radiating against his back, and the heat from the dragon warming his chest and legs. Dean is careful to keep his hips canted away, as his dick is obviously totally on board with the whole situation of being naked with another person and has begun to plump up, a warm weight between his legs, and becoming more sensitive with every move.

“Did you _fly_ me home, Cas?” Dean asks in wonder.

“Yes.” Cas’ eyes are so very blue and reflect the light from the dancing flames of the fire, Dean is mesmerized and cannot look away.

Dean does finally look away, unable to meet Cas’ gaze as he tries to piece together his disjointed memories. “Cas, were you, like, huge? I mean you watch TV with me, and you’re warm and cute, and sit with me on the couch, but today you were so strong and kinda majestic and... _enormous_.”

Dean’s face floods with colour as he realizes how inappropriately turned on he is by the thought of Cas’ strength being able to manhandle his 200-pound ass so easily. He shifts under the blankets, but his body is so sensitive, nerves coming alive from the cold. Every movement sends sparks zinging across his skin. He tries to remember that the dragon appears years younger than he is, even though technically he’s older. Dean tells his workworn body that Cas doesn’t want him like that, that Cas is youthful and beautiful and could have anyone he liked. Dean ducks his head and tries to shift away from the expanse of warm and smoothly muscled skin wrapped around him.

“Dean, stop.” Cas turns Dean and tucks blankets around them more firmly. Cas leans up on an elbow and looks down at Dean who is firmly tucked against his chest. His words soft, his voice deep and rumbly, “I don’t know what is going through your head but don’t pull away, you need to stay warm. And I’m sorry, but all my instincts are screaming at me to protect my new guardian, to comfort you, and to reassure us both that you are the most important thing in my life.”

Cas continues to search Dean’s eyes earnestly, as one hand tentatively cards through the short hairs at the base of his neck. Dean shivers and cannot help leaning into the steady and reassuring touch. He closes his eyes and just enjoys the closeness and warmth. He’s been alone so long. Maybe he can have this after all.

Castiel continues to gently caress the back of Dean’s neck. His strokes become bolder as he runs his hand along Dean’s shoulders, before cupping the back of his head gently and drawing him closer. Dean allows the dragon to move him and closes his eyes finally allowing himself to just feel.

Dean feels the dragon run the back of his fingers across his face from his hairline to his jaw. “Dean? Is this ok? I need you to tell me this is alright, that you are ok with this, with us. With me,” Cas’ voice wavers with uncertainty, and that’s what breaks Dean. That this magnificent creature, this gorgeous man, could be unsure that Dean wanted him?

“Cas, yeah it’s ok. It is definitely ok if you’re sure? I’m older, a bit worn down, and you… you are glorious,” he whispers into the intimate space between them.

“Dean, you are becoming everything,” and with that Cas leans down and gently presses his lips to Dean’s.

Cas fits his lips against Dean’s like they are meant to be there. Soft and warm, with a hint of pressure. He cards his fingers through Dean’s hair, teasing and pulling his lips softly between his own. Parting his lips, Castiel’s tongue dips inside eagerly rolling against Dean’s. A throaty moan of pleasure escapes his throat, it’s been such a long time since Dean’s been kissed like this, worshiped like this, treasured like this. His hands grasp onto Castiel’s shoulders, pulling the other man’s body towards his own.

They are both eager, lips and tongues meeting and tangling. Castiel’s kisses are passionate, all-consuming and Dean forgets himself. His hesitancy, his fears of being too old for Castiel evaporate when the dragon eagerly moans and trembles beneath his hands. Dean’s hands drag down the planes of Castiel’s pectorals and abdomen, his fingers caressing the dragon’s Adonis’ belt. Teasing Castiel, touching close but not close enough to satisfy the other man.

“Dean,” Castiel groans against his lip, panting. Opening his eyes, Castiel’s visage of lust blown blue eyes and spit shiny lips fills Dean with white-hot heat. He holds Castiel’s hips steady, thumbs brushing his lower abdomen.

_“Dean_ ,” keens Castiel, hips undulating, searching for friction. Castiel’s hand glides down Dean’s back to grab at his butt cheek, pulling the two men closer.

“What do you want?” Dean whispers, attempting, and failing, to hold his hips away from Castiel’s searching ones. Lust blasts through him sharply when Castiel’s cocks graze against his own. Castiel gasps, his mouth dropping open.

“This. You. _Anything_ ,” Castiel replies, breathless. Dean hums in agreement, so he tries to kiss Castiel sweetly, softly, but with one roll of Castiel’s tongue changes the tempo. Desperate, consuming, and delicious kisses spur Dean into action. With steadiness, he grasps Castiel’s cock in his hand. Thick and hot, Castiel feels unbelievably good. It’s been such a long time since Dean’s touched another and Castiel is certainly worth the wait.

He’s huge and thick, filling Dean’s hand. Dean’s thumb runs around the head of Castiel’s cock, focusing on the frenulum and leaking slit, massaging down to its base. Dean pulls and pumps, watching Castiel’s expressions. His look of bliss, the twitching of his abdomen, and the breathy moans that escape those beautiful lips. Dean memorizes everything. The ethereal glow from the fire and the salty taste of Castiel’s neck. Castiel undulates and moans, breathy beautiful sounds urging Dean on. Eventually, Castiel cries Dean’s name, his limbs locking up, and his orgasm spilling between the two of them.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas exhales, full of wonder, as he pets Dean’s arms and kisses everything within reach. Dean kisses and nuzzles, his messy hand slipping between them and stroking his own cock. Castiel watches enraptured with the flex and roll of Dean’s body, fingers nimble against over his flesh and playing with Dean’s nipples. He touches the valley of Dean’s ass while Dean pumps into his own fist coated with Castiel’s emission. It feels so good to be touched there.

He moans and lets Castiel know, soft cries of _right there, fuck yes_. Castiel fingers press against his hole eliciting the familiar feeling of his orgasm crest as it rushes through him. He climaxes, his cry is swallowed by Castiel’s lips.

Aftershocks wrack Dean as they slot together, the drying mess pressing between them. He clumsily wipes his hand on a blanket, and a soft chuckle leaks from his lips causing Castiel to smile bashfully in return. High on endorphins, he kisses Cas, quick pecks around his face, eliciting a beautiful smile from the dragon. His eyes and nose are crinkled, grinning ear to ear.

Dean softly hums, pressing a kiss above Cas’ heart. A well of emotion rises in the back of his throat, fondness, and affection overwhelm him. He creates a little space, just so he can breathe and think. Unperturbed, Castiel takes the chance for his hands to roam down Dean’s body.

“That was… lovely,” Castiel comments, his fingers idly connecting the freckles on Dean’s chest, “I’ve never been with another but I can understand the allure now.”

“That’s only the beginning, sunshine. If you want, there are many more things we can do when you’re ready,” Dean jokes. Spreading out on the blankets underneath him with Castiel on one elbow peering down at Dean.

“I’d like to explore everything with you, Dean,” replies Castiel earnestly. With a nod, Dean agrees.


	2. Chapter 2

As the cold of winter fades into the warming breezes of spring, Dean finds himself growing more comfortable in Castiel’s company. Cuddling in front of the fire in the evening has given way to sitting on the porch, drinking a beer, and sharing the quiet time of evening together after a busy work day. Dean loves his time with his dragon, even doing the most mundane chores are madeover in new light with Castiel. Laundry is folded with laughter, the bed is made with teasing smiles, and dinner is cooked in between dancing in the kitchen. Dean and Cas settle into a comfortable routine of happy domesticity, although Dean still marvels at the fact that this gorgeous creature thinks that he is worth being with.

Despite their promising first time, Dean has put their sexual relationship on hold for the last few months. Feeling like the first time was spurred on by the heightened emotions from almost dying, Dean wants Castiel to approach him when he’s fully ready to bring their relationship to the next level. Instead, Dean focuses on other experiences and truly enjoys Castiel’s company. He takes Castiel to the movies, they snuggle late into the night, they go out to eat in Lawrence, they take long drives in the Impala, and other safe platonic activities. They exchange soft kisses through the day, full of fondness and adoration… and dare Dean admit it to himself, love. 

Dean feels renewed in the early spring air. Usually, early spring only means a variety of tasks to Dean but this year is happily different. The biggest chore is overhauling the vegetable plot out back and getting it ready to plant a new garden. Dean has always enjoyed growing his own tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, and cucumbers. Home grown veggies were something Dean delighted in eating once Sam introduced him, much to Sam’s satisfaction. He was perfectly content to share this experience with Castiel. 

With a spring breeze and the morning sun, Dean usually found weeding therapeutic. Castiel was fascinated by the process of overturning the winter sod, mixing in the compost and pulling weeds, but he becomes perturbed when Dean instructs that they are going to be throwing the weeds out completely.

“But why, Dean? Why would you pull out that particular plant, and replace it with this one? It is smaller, but exactly the same colour of green. I don’t understand.”

With every question posed, the dragon would always tilt his head, waiting earnestly for Dean to give an answer. Sometimes he looked at Dean like he held the answers to life, the universe and everything. Most days, Dean found it endearing, and he’d pull Castiel in for a sweet kiss. Kissing the confusion off of his dragon’s countenance was becoming one of his favorite pastimes. Today though, Castiel had been antsy and on edge since he woke up, and it felt like he was purposely annoying Dean. 

“Cas, that’s a weed.”

“But it’s beautiful in it’s own way, just look at the flower. Can’t it stay? It may help your plants in some way. Perhaps it will attract pollinators?”

“It’s still a weed, Cas. It has to go.”

Mumbling gruffly under his breath, Cas tenderly pulls the weed up, root bulb and all, and saunters off with it. Hunched over in the dirt, Dean lets out a large sigh and dusts off his hands and follows his young friend to the garage. He watches as Castiel noses around his garage looking for something. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for, sunshine?” Dean asks softly.

“A pot,” Cas angrily huffs. 

Pulling down a spare ceramic pot and some potting soil, Dean fills it and takes the primrose weed away from Castiel. Packing the weed tightly in the middle, he hands the little pot back to his dragon. Castiel still seems upset, not looking at Dean’s face, but accepts the little plant gingerly with a quiet thank you. “You can put it on the porch,” Dean states, feeling a little more than foolish about disagreeing about the weed. They stand in the garage, grease and motor oil a sharp contrast to the smell of new earth outside. 

“I have been found, despite my efforts to stay hidden. My brother Gabriel has reached out to warn me. It turns out that my rescue on the ice alerted them. They’ve been watching and waiting, despite the fact I silenced my mental link. It is only a matter of time and my kin have been adamant in their wish for me to return home,” Castiel comments softly, fiddling with the leaves of the plant with his long fingers. 

Dean hums, waiting patiently for Castiel to continue. Dean leans against the Impala, arms crossed, and watches as Castiel lets out a big sigh, “It’s mating season.” 

“Ok?” 

“They want to drag me home... to force me to have offspring.” 

Even though the words feel like lead, Dean pushes them past his teeth, “Do you want kids?” 

“No!” Castiel practically shouts and then quiets himself, “Yes, possibly in time but not now...not forced by the Court.” 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Dean clears his throat and tries to wrap his mind around the situation. He decides to use a phrase that Sam is fond of using with Jack, “Do you want me to just listen or would like me to listen to you and offer advice?” 

Placing the plant on the concrete, Castiel finally meets Dean’s eyes, “I would like your input.” Nodding for Castiel to continue, Dean tries his hardest to keep his face neutral but full of support. He is a guardian and Castiel says they have a sacred bond. He needs to put aside the growing sense of panic and the inner voice that is repeating _‘he’s gonna leave me, he’s gonna leave me.’_

“You are my guardian, my keeper,” Castiel starts hesitantly, “In the past, that would have meant that I would be obligated to protect your lands from invaders and you in turn would have provided a safe haven and a place within your home for me. It is between a guardian and their dragon to decide what kind of provisions are met, a hierarchy of needs of sorts. Many dragons would simply dine with their guardians, a sort of business transaction, others… others were more intimate with their keepers. Their bond was more profound. I had wanted that with you. I feel that is the true nature of our bond. Upon entering your home, I felt it settle over me and I felt like I had truly found what I have been looking for all my life. I thought… I was under the assumption that you also wanted that with me?” 

“Whatcha talking about, Cas? You gotta spell it out for me because I’m not following.” 

“I wanted our bond to supersede any requirements of me to the dragon court. I want to be your companion, your partner, to be fully intimate with you in all things,” Castiel explains, looking frustrated and little put out that Dean isn’t exactly following. 

“Intimate? Like sex?” Dean asks. 

“Yes,” Castiel’s exasperation is apparent but he stumbles on, “We… We were intimate once, and then suddenly we were not. You said you’d wait till I was ready for more, but I am confused, Dean. I don’t know what that means. I guess I’m “ready,” was I supposed to explicitly say this to you?” Castiel throws up his arms, full of exasperation and ire, “And I _have to know_ where we stand. If we are to become both guardians and mates, my kin would not force the issue of returning. They have found me and now they are constantly buzzing in my brain, driving me _insane_ with their incessant nagging to bear children.” 

His mouth drying and eyes bugging out, “You can have babies?” 

Throwing up his hands and letting out a stern, ‘ _Dean’,_ Castiel looks like he’s going to burst out of his skin with frustration. Thinking about his words carefully, Dean pulls Castiel into a hug. At first, Castiel is unyielding but then after a few quiet minutes he melts into Dean’s embrace. With his face pushed into Dean’s chest he mumbles “They wouldn’t be babies, Dean. They’d be fledgelings.”

Humming, Dean tucks Castiel’s head underneath his chin. “I was waiting for the right time, for you to start things, it just means that I was waiting for you to make a move. For you to say that you wanted to fool around,” answers Dean, ignoring the fledgelings discussion for now and pressing a kiss to Castiel’s hair. Castiel pulls Dean closer, his dirt stained fingers digging into Dean’s back. “We’ve got all the time to be together, I just wanted to get to know you first,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ cheek, earning a soft sigh of contentment from the dragon. Taking a deep breath, Dean blurts out a question before he can stop himself, “But really? You can have babies, I mean fledge.. err, tiny dragons?” 

Groaning with exasperation, Castiel can’t hide the slight twisted sad smile twinging at his lips, “Yes, Dean. But I really do not want to. That’s why I escaped. I do not want to bear fledglings to be pawns in their game.” 

Letting out a large sigh that fills his chest and then hollows him out, Castiel nuzzles against Dean’s neck, his voice causing vibrations against Dean’s neck, “Some dragons, like myself, are hermaphroditic. We are rare and pawns to the needs of our dragon court. In the past, if a dominant female in power died, a smaller younger non-threatening male would take her place as interim ruler until the new Queen was chosen.” 

Hands splayed down Castiel’s back, Dean shifts so he can look at his dragon, “You are tellin’ me that dragons are like clown fish?” 

Sour mood displaced by Dean’s silly comment. Castiel laughs, nose scrunched up and eyes shining, “Something like that, though there is more politics involved at court in consideration of who can bear fledgelings. It's a very controlled, regimented life. It’s a cold childhood, not like here. Humans are so warm, you have shown me more kindness and emotion in these short months than I have experienced in all my years amongst my kind.” 

“I’m glad I can make you happy, Cas,” Dean whispers against Castiel’s lips and kisses him softly, pulling Castiel’s bottom lip in between his own. Enjoying the feeling of the dragon’s sweet lip in between his own. Question and curiosity burning, “So, you can decide you want children and poof! You are a girl?” Dean looks down at Castiel’s pants feeling a little saddened that Castiel’s glorious penis would disappear. 

Humming with amusement, as if he is reading Dean’s thoughts, Castiel shakes his head, “No, Dean. I swear, I should have mentioned this to you earlier but it’s something that I’ve never wanted. I don’t have that desire to bear children, not when there are so many fledglings without families out of the Queen’s court. But to answer your question, a channel would open up to my uterus internally. You really don’t need to know any more than that.” 

“Good thing for you, I’d hate for you to lose your dick,” Dean teases, pulling on Castiel’s hips playfully. 

“I will lose it from disuse if my keeper won’t let me bed him,” Castiel replies saucily back, hands running up Dean’s arms and pulling Dean back into another kiss. Dean goes willingly, happily. 

The way they come together is very different to the night before the fire. That was languid, measured, every touch felt at once dreamlike and almost too real. This time there are the cool planes of the Impala at Dean’s back even as Cas is warm and pliant within his arms. Cas kisses him like he can’t get enough, like he needs this more than anything and is desperate to take as well as to give. 

Dean cradles Cas’ head with both hands. His thumbs running gently across the young dragon’s cheekbones. “Cas, stop sweetheart. Let’s take this inside.”

“I want you, Dean, please don’t ask me to stop.”

Cas is keening with desire, softly panting and clutching at Dean as if would bodily disappear. Dean has never felt more wanted, more desired. In the eyes of this incredible creature he was captivating and attractive, not a man worn down with time and hard work, a man with more years under his belt that he liked to count. Dean took a moment to fully appreciate what the dragon, his charge, his partner was offering him. The younger man is so beautiful in the subdued light of the garage. Dust motes dance between them in a shaft of sunlight, as Dean releases Cas’ head and takes his hands.

“Come with me, sweetheart. Let’s do this properly. I want to worship you on a bed, I want to do this right. You deserve more than me…” Cas begins to protest but Dean stills him with a finger to his lips, “You deserve more than me, but here’s the thing. You have me, all of me, body and soul, as your partner, your lover and your true keeper, if you want me.”

Dean is suddenly shy after his proclamation, ducking his head to avoid Castiel’s unearthly gaze.

“Dean?” Cas takes back Dean’s hand and they are linked once more. “Come, my beloved.”

Fingers entwined, the dragon and keeper make their way through the house to the bedroom. 

They have not yet shared a bedroom as human partners. Castiel has been in there, of course. But after the evening spent on the couch, or the porch, a kiss, a chaste goodnight and Castiel has been reverting to dragon form for the evening. The two have only shared this space comfortably as little dragon and keeper.

Dean cannot help the excitement that builds as they enter the bedroom as partners. The two men stop before the bed, their hands still clasped.

“Cas, I…”

“Hush, Dean. Let me take care of you.”

Dean submits, and stands quietly as the young dragon drinks him in with his eyes. Cas brings his hands up and begins to unbutton Dean’s shirt, pushing it back over his shoulders.

“Dean, you are incredible. I never thought I would be entrusted with the care of a guardian, and yet here you are. So strong, so loyal, so caring.”

The young dragon pushes his hands under the edge of Dean’s tee shirt and lifts it slowly revealing Dean’s stomach, chest and shoulders. He pushes the older man back until the backs of his legs hit the bed, and he sits abruptly, releasing the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

Castiel follows, climbing onto the bed and straddling Dean’s thighs, he seats himself in Dean’s lap and loops his arms around Dean’s neck looking him in the eye.

“Dean, I want you, now.” With that he pushes Dean by the shoulders and they sink together into the softness of the comforter. Dean opens his legs and Cas makes himself comfortable between them. The both groan as the planes of their hips meet, and the growing arousal of each man can be felt by the other. They kiss, deeply, Cas’ tongue seeks entrance and Dean welcomes him in with his own. Their kisses grow heated as their passion grows, their breathing becoming ragged.

“Cas, Cas.. pants!”

Dean is rendered incoherent as he wraps his arms and one leg around his dragon in an effort to get even closer. Dean feels that if he were able to crawl inside this man he would still not be close enough.

Just like last time, Castiel’s kisses are passionate, all-consuming and again make Dean forget himself. Once again Dean’s hesitancy, his fears of being too old for Castiel evaporate when the dragon eagerly moans and trembles above him.

“Pants. Off.” Dean’s jeans are painfully trapping his cock, he lifts his hips and tries to reach the zipper, but Cas knocks his hand away. Holding himself steady on one arm, the dragon uses the other to unzip Dean’s fly, and then his own and they both writhe and kick off the offending jeans and briefs. 

Once again Dean feels the heat of Cas’ body a warm weight down the length of his own. Cas runs warm, so warm which in a fleeting thought he guesses is natural for a dragon. Gliding his hands down the planes of Castiel’s back, over his cheeks, pulling Castiel by the waist to be closer to him. The gorgeous man undulates his hips, their mutual arousal trapped between their bodies, and it makes Dean see stars behind his lids. 

“I want you,” is murmured against Dean’s lips, small nips pulling on his bottom lip, “ _I want you_.” 

“Then have me,” moans Dean. 

A devastatingly eager kiss, teeth nibbling on Dean’s bottom lip and tongue soothing those small bites. Castiel places open mouthed kisses down Dean’s body. Sucking love bites into Dean’s skin, moving down to kiss Dean’s cock. Flicking his tongue along the seam of the swollen head. Gathering Dean’s aching member in one of his hands, Castiel sucks and bobs, his cheeks hollowing. He’s noisy, enthusiastic, and enjoying himself. Dean’s hands card through Castiel’s hair, holding him in place and loving every moment. 

Teasing touches press behind Dean’s balls to his hole, pressing and skirting away. 

Dean’s pleas are broken, his legs drop open even more. His body hungering for more. Castiel watches through his eyelashes, his face intent and focused on only Dean’s pleasure. Sucking, swirling, and flicking that delicious tongue over his cock. Sucking him down with an amazing amount of pressure, his cheeks hollowing to beautiful crescents. The room already is heavy with the scent of sex. Castiel’s high cheeks are tinged with pink and the little Dean can see, his chest ruddy and a little blotchy. 

“ _Cas, love, please._ ” 

Humming, Castiel fingers dip to focus on opening Dean up and then pauses. He stops, hastily popping off the bed and blindly grabbing for the lube from Dean’s dresser drawer. Letting out a small laugh, Dean stretches out sinking into the bed. He runs his hands down his legs and palms his dick, pumping it a few times. When Castiel settles between his legs, he runs his hands through his hair, down his neck, and then over Castiel’s shoulders. 

“Hurry, I won’t break,” encourages Dean, tugging on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Patience, my guardian,” Castiel murmurs, kissing the inside of Dean’s knee and nipping his skin. Letting out a small keen, Dean digs his heels into the mattress as Castiel opens him up slowly. One finger at a time. Dean has one hand buried in Cas’s silky hair, the other is clenched in the covers as the dragon twists his long fingers deep into the heat of Dean. Grazing against his prostate as he twists, and tugging gently at the rim as he pulls out. Dean is a mess, writhing. It’s almost too good, too much and he is close to being overwhelmed.

“Cas, now.. I need…”

Castiel drags his fingers out, crooking them against Dean’s prostate as he goes. Wiping his hand quickly on a discarded shirt, he looms over Dean, seeming larger and more imposing than before. Cas takes himself in hand, nudging the blunt head of his cock and seeking entrance. Dean catches his breath at the twin sensations of Castiel breaching and entering him whilst gazing at him with his intense blue eyes wide. Cas is drinking in each expression, and Dean cannot help but moan as Cas fills him completely.

“Dean, beloved. You feel incredible. I cannot believe I’m inside you, that you are sharing yourself with me in this way.” The dragon drops kisses across Dean’s face as he starts to move his hips causing delicious friction deep within Dean. 

Wrapping his legs along the dragon’s hips, pulling him impossibly deeper and more importantly closer, Dean kisses Castiel. Messy and desperate. They both start slow, Castiel getting used to the new sensations, Dean softly sighing his praises. As the dragon and keeper move together, finding a rhythm that pleases them both. 

“So good, sweetheart,” Dean praises, locking his feet together in the dip of Castiel’s back, “So good. You feel so good.” Castiel’s thrusts become sharp and desperate after each little praise. Cas is biting his lip so hard that the pretty pink lip is white underneath his teeth, Dean reaches up with his thumb to pull it from his dragon. Sticking in his thumb inside of that pretty mouth instead. Castiel’s tongue swirls around his thumb, mirth dancing in those blue eyes. 

Humming his approval, Dean takes one of Castiel’s hands and guides it towards his forgotten erection. Getting the message, Cas releases his thumb with an audible pop and focuses on fucking into Dean and his hand matching his stroke. He can feel a steady stream of precome easing the glide of Castiel’s hand. Dean’s mouth drops open, letting out low groans. He watches the beauty of Castiel’s hips slide and disappear into him. 

Eye wandering up, Dean cannot tear his gaze from his dragon’s face. Pulling him into a kiss, Dean urges Cas on little desperate pleas against the dragon’s lips, _“I got you, Cas. Let go, for me Cas, please, I’m so close.”_ He’s always wanted to share the moment of ultimate pleasure.

Heat pools in Dean’s belly and he knows his orgasm is now inevitable, he sees Castiel’s whole body tighten like a coil… ready to spring at any moment. Castiel’s hand stutters and stops as the young dragon tries to keep his focus, guiding his hand with his own he feels the tingling warning approaching.

“Oh fuck... _now, Cas_!” 

Before his eyes shut in bliss...Dean sees the dragon’s face, head thrown back and eyes closed as his climax overtakes him. A hoarse shout escaping his lips, Cas shudders as he releases into Dean, tipping Dean over the edge as well. Dean sees fucking stars and he pretty sure he’s left bruises around the wrist that continues to gently stroke his cock through Dean’s afterschocks. Cas collapses heavily onto Dean, they are both gasping for breath, sweaty and spent. Castiel begins to pull away, aware of the sticky mess caught between their bellies, and he pulls out making Dean wince at the loss. 

“No. Don’t move. Stay,” Dean whispers against the short curled hairs that tickle Castiel’s nape.

“I thought I would be too heavy, beloved.” Cas returns, his voice husky and low. Completely wrecked. 

“No. Not too heavy. Never too heavy.” Dean can hardly form sentences; he is so warm and sated. He has never felt so cared for, so loved. Dean opens his eyes and finds himself staring straight into the blue depths of his dragon’s eyes.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” Cas replies as he cads his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“I think I love you,” Dean pauses, his hands wandering down the muscles of Castiel’s arms, “I know I love you.” 

“And I you,” Castiel responds smiling, the smile so big he can barely kiss Dean’s lips. Dean gets more teeth than lips. He gathers Dean up reverently, placing soft kisses and slotting their legs together. Dean’s eyelids are so heavy and he can feel the call of sleep slowly pulling him under. “Let’s sleep, rest,” Castiel snuggles into Dean.

Dean wakes slowly, pure contentment thrumming through him. Castiel, the human and not the dragon, is nestled against him. A long toned leg still slotted between his, a hard cock pressed against his ass, an arm thrown over his chest. Dean can’t imagine a better way to wake up. Dean waits for Castiel to wake, his dragon nuzzling against him and letting out a huge sigh. They wish each other goodmorning, sleepy morning breath kisses exchanged. 

“Breakfast then gutters?” Castiel questions, hands running down Dean’s back, “Are you sore today?” 

“A little, not enough to complain about though,” replies Dean. Castiel presses a kiss to his neck, hand splayed across Dean’s chest. A soft light glows from his palm, Dean’s aches melt away. 

“Thank you, sunshine,” Dean murmurs. 

“You’re welcome.” 

They eat breakfast unhurriedly, bashful smiles are exchanged. Castiel’s hands wander teasingly across Dean’s shoulders and down the sensitive skin on his arms, and Dean leans into his touch. When the dregs of coffee are consumed from his second favorite mug, Dean’s favorite coffee mug still contains Castiel’s hoard, the men end up outside. 

Castiel’s hands tease the back of Dean’s thighs and butt as he steadies him on the ladder. He’s supposed to be cleaning out the detritus in the gutters, instead Dean’s too busy cursing those damn squirrels for building a treasure trove of nuts in his gutter and telling Cas to cut it out. His little dragon is frisky. Long fingers playfully digging into the meat of his ass. It feels delicious, creating little sparks of arousal in his blood. 

“Castiel.” 

Dean practically falls off the ladder, spooked out of his skin by the commanding tone of the woman’s voice. Castiel steadies him as he shimmies down the ladder and they both turn to meet the icy blue eyes of a woman in a blue power suit complete with shoulder pads and a nipped in waist. 

“Winchester,” the disdain is clear on her face and tone of voice. 

“Naomi,” Castiel states calmly, stepping in front of Dean, shielding him from the strange woman.

“Castiel, you’ve been ignoring us,” Naomi states, ever calmly, creepily serene. 

Dean lays a comforting hand in the middle of his dragon’s back. Everything in him is screaming to grab his dragon and fight off this threat, but he holds steadfast behind Castiel. 

“I’ve had no reason to answer your call,” Castiel answers, his usually warm voice icy with hatred. “I will not return to bear the next generation for you. I will not mate with someone I have not freely chosen. I will not be bound by your archaic and outdated ideas of how our society and those within it should behave,” Castiel is almost breathless as he spits the last words at Naomi.

Naomi stares, her blue eyes are ice cold and her face is like stone. A telepathic conversation seems to be passing between the two dragons, microexpressions only give away their heightened emotions. Dean can tell Castiel is livid, his fists are clenched at his sides. 

It’s Naomi who breaks first, turning to Dean with vehemence in her voice, “You are not soul bound to your dragon, therefore Castiel will be coming home for the court’s choosing. Castiel, you WILL do your duty.” 

“I am his true mate in every way,” growls Castiel as Dean barks out, “He’s not going anywhere.” 

“You intend on going through the lights with this human? To mark your souls as one?” Naomi questions, her eyes never quite leaving Dean. 

“Yes, so you may leave,” Castiel growls, hackles visibly rising. Naomi’s face doesn’t give anything away, but her body shifts back eyes darting between the two men. Dean inches closer to Castiel, hand curling around his waist. 

“Someone will be in touch, Castiel,” she warns and in a bright light that’s blinding a dragon appears and launches into the sky. 

Dean pulls Castiel back into his chest, shielding his eyes and pressing his face into his dragon’s neck. He can see stars, the light creating spots. Confusion swirls around his mind… so they aren’t actually bonded?

“Mark our souls? What is she talking about Cas? I thought we were already bondmates. You don’t have to go do you? You’re not leaving?” 

“And we are bound, and I’m not going anywhere! Trust me, Dean. We are mates. You are mine and I am yours,” Castiel says, his voice deep with emotions and fear in his eyes. “I will not be forced to mate with someone not of my own choosing - and I choose you, Dean. I choose you.”

“Then what she is talking about, Cas?” 

Biting on his lip, Castiel softly explains, “To be recognized as mates in court, we have to go through a ceremony. It starts with a flight to see the Northern Lights. You seemed so hesitant to fly, I did not want to pressure you into going.” 

“I’d go with you anywhere, Cas, you need to know that. I trust you.” 

Castiel nods and looks away only briefly. “I know that, Dean. I would never do anything to endanger you, I was just looking for a way to avoid that flight.” 

“We should go,” Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss into Castiel’s temple, “I want to go.” 

“We will, beloved.”

Dean and Castiel venture out to the field behind his house after breakfast to begin getting used to flying together. Thankfully, Dean’s ranch house is nestled on the edge of a good sized woods, farming fields, and his own large green lawn situated to the south between the house and the trees. It’s secluded, private, and he had picked this house so he can clang around on his car restorations at home. Dean thanks all the powers that be that there is a private place for his first flight with Cas. At least the first flight where he wasn’t hypothermic and semi conscious. 

The young dragon is wearing a pair of Dean’s jeans and nothing else as he walks barefoot across the lawn. _The tease._ Dean has tried to ask him where his clothes go when he shifts - but all Castiel can tell him is that they stay ‘within’ him. Which is no help. And it is not helping Dean to stay calm as he watches the play of muscles across the young dragon’s back as he walks across the lawn. The jeans dipping low on his hips, exposing those delicious hip bones and the treasure trail along his navel. 

The state of Castiel’s undress highlights the state of Dean’s panicked dress. Dean is decked out for mountain climbing. Or for emergencies. Whatever. He’s taking no chances. Flying is dangerous and everyone knows it. He’d even searched around for a helmet but couldn’t find anything but Jack’s bright blue one from when he was eight years old. Dean highly doubts a child’s bicycle helmet would help him if he falls off the back of an enormous dragon. 

Castiel chooses a spot in the centre of the thick lawn, and waits for Dean to join him. Throwing an encouraging smile over his shoulder, Castiel is the epitome of cool sexy confidence. His smile only wavers when he searches Dean’s eyes and sees pure panic.

“Dean, my keeper - it is our destiny to fly together but I need to understand your concerns, your fear. I need to hear them now before I transform, and maybe we can address them.”

Dean shifts from foot to foot feeling uncomfortable to be put on the spot. A lump in this throat and he chokes around it, “Cas, I trust you, I do. But I can’t help feeling that… well that it is a long way down from way up there,” he says, gesturing at the sky nervously, “It’s not that I _don’t_ trust you, and it’s not that I think you would ever let me fall _on purpose_ …but it’s a hell of a long way down.”

Cas steps toward Dean and takes his keeper in his arms. His voice rumbly and arms tight around Dean, “My love, you have been given no reason to trust me in that form. I understand.”

“No! Cas, no… trust me, pal... it’s not you I don’t trust. I mean you already flew me once after the skating accident. Just, please, _fuck..._ ” Dean looks away unable to meet the gaze of the dragon, “Just don’t drop me, man. You promise?” 

Castiel wraps himself around his keeper, trying to project reassurance and calm. He feels Dean relax within his grasp and pulls back to look him in the eye.

“Dean, beloved, we don’t have to do this,” he starts and Dean interrupts him with a quick, “Yes we do, Cas.” 

They stop and stare at each other, Dean breaks the silence, “From what Naomi said you’ll have to go back and _mate_ with some random douchebag if I can’t do this. I will do this. For you. You’re not being forced into anything if I have any say in it.”

Castiel starts to retort, to sooth Dean, to explain away the situation but Dean hushes him with a finger to Castiel’s lips. Dean lifts his chin and stares at Cas with defiance in his eyes, “You better believe that we are doing this, god damnit.” 

Castiel feels so much love and pride for his keeper in that moment, unable to contain his emotions he grabs Dean’s face and kisses him quickly. Letting Dean go, Castiel steps back and shifts into the magnificent dragon the size of a large plane. His large body takes up the space of Dean’s entire backyard and the surrounding field. Dean finds himself being nudged by a large triangular dragon head, as blue eyes the size of basketballs capture him in their depths.The dragon holds out his front paws, and Dean steps forward. They have not yet discussed how this will go. Will he be riding Castiel like a horse? “Riding,” Dean sniggers to himself, “First time for everything!”

Castiel senses what Dean is thinking and knocks him gently with one front leg, sending Dean tumbling and chuckling into the grass. 

“C’mon, Cas, it’s funny!” The dragon glares at him as Dean regains his feet. “I’m sorry, Cas. We never discussed this. Are you going to carry me, or am I going to ride you?” Dean’s mouth gives a giveaway twitch as he asks the question. 

Castiel rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Seriously!! I don’t know how this works. What’s going to be more comfortable for you, it’s hell of a long trip,” Dean exclaims, throwing up his hands and gesturing to all of Castiel. 

Castiel is regal as a full grown dragon. His scales catch the sun and he almost glows as he lowers himself to his haunches, one foreleg bent, offering his keeper a knee as is traditional. Dean studies the stance, then leans in and gives the dragon a kiss on the snout causing him to take a surprised breath in. The dragon huffs out again and a gust of warm ‘Cas’ scented air buffets Dean gently as he looks for the best way to climb his dragon.

Dean sets his booted foot on Cas’ scaly knee and looks to his dragon to see if he is doing the right thing. Cas huffs his approval, as his tail waves gently in the long grass causing it to ripple and sway. Cas lifts his knee and assists his keeper to climb up and settle himself between two neck ridges. Dean grasps at the spiny ridges to stay seated as the dragon gives a mighty heave and launches himself towards the sky.

Dean cannot for the life of him find purchase and slips until he is hanging from the young dragon’s neck and scrabbling for purchase with his boots. Cas looks around in surprise at the sudden shift in weight and catches his keeper safely in his front paws just as he is about to fall. He bears his keeper to the ground safely surrounded by warm dragon paws and sturdy claws.

As they land back in the grass, Cas releases Dean whereby he throws himself down dramatically and lies prone, glaring at the dragon.

“We ain’t doing it that way. No way, no how. Just nope.” he exclaims popping the ‘p’.

Castiel transforms back to a young man and drops comfortably into the grass next to Dean. He tilts his head inquisitively, blue eyes filled with mirth and smile spreading those chapped pink lips. 

“What did I do wrong?” he asks, fingers trailing down Dean’s arm. 

Dean relaxes into the grass and laughs, pulling the bemused dragon down with him. Rolling Castiel underneath him, Dean kisses his cheek and pinches Cas’s nipple playfully. Laughing to himself at Cas swatting at his hands, he kisses the dragon again with a little more heat. His lips parting and nipping his scruffy jaw, “Cas, buddy, I think we’re definitely gonna need to rethink this!” 

After much discussion, mostly jokes laden with sexual innuendo, Dean purchases a sleek draft horse saddle. They retro-fit it to Castiel’s shoulder blades and add further stability for Dean. With a safety cord in place, he can fly easily knowing he will not fall off his dragon partner’s back and plummet violently to his death.

For weeks, they spend each early morning flying. Dew hanging heavy in the air and the sun just cresting over the horizon. Dean becomes addicted to the feeling of weightlessness as Castiel pushes off the ground and to the feeling of warm scales against his skin when he crouches low as Castiel speeds along the clouds. His great wings angled backwards, his neck stretched out, cutting through the clouds. They roll down Dean’s body, wetting his skin, and clumping his hair. 

As Cas lands, Dean hops out of the saddle to duck and roll into the grass. He spreads out and lets out a happy sigh. Watching Castiel’s transformative bright light fill his backyard, then morph into the man he has grown to love. He reaches up, tangles their fingers together and Dean kisses the middle of his palm, soft lips press and he tastes the salt of Castiel’s skin. 

“It’s time for work, love,” Castiel sighs, carding his other hand through Dean’s wet hair, “Let’s take a shower and head in.” 

“Together?” 

With a soft secretive smile, Castiel nods and pulls Dean up. Hauling Dean to his feet with an easy move of the wrist. 

“Very manly, so strong” Dean jokes, but his voice comes off too breathy and aroused. 

“Shower,” Cas commands, steering Dean towards the house and into the bathroom. Stripping both himself and Dean of his clothing as they go. Cas cranks on the shower, his erection pressed up against Dean’s ass cheek. 

“Happy to see me, I see.” 

“Always, my keeper,” Castiel intones, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Dean’s neck as he steps into the stream of water. Cas is all business, soaping up their bodies, washing their hair, and avoiding Dean’s twitching erection that hangs heavily between his legs. 

“Turn around, please,” Cas requests, voice low and soft, his hands gripping and biting into Dean’s hips. Dean does what he asks, facing the side of the shower wall. The cool tile is sharp against his forearms as he widens the stances of his leg. 

Popping open their shower lube, Castiel reaches around and circles Dean’s erection slowly. Making his mouth drop open and head drop back to rest against Cas. “Feels good,” he groans and thrusts his hips into Castiel’s hand. 

“Good,” Castiel sighs happily, slotting his cock in between Dean’s cheeks and thrusting between them in tandem with his hand. 

“Don’t really have time for that, love,” Dean comments. 

“I know that Dean, this is all we are doing,” Castiel sassily replies, nipping Dean’s ear, “Now hush or I won’t let you ride me tonight.” 

Laughing and groaning from a particular twist of Castiel’s hand, Dean focuses on the building of his pleasure. They are going to be so late to work, but it’s completely worth it. Castiel thrusts slowly between his cheeks, the drag of the ridges of his cock in between his cheeks delicious. Dean rests his head against Castiel’s temple, his dragon panting and groaning in his ear. Nothing is better than listening to this gorgeous creature take his pleasure. 

“Feels good,” Dean moans, chasing the feeling of his orgasm. 

“Come, my keeper,” Castiel commands, nipping at the cords of Dean’s neck, his hand flying over Dean’s cock. Dean’s orgasm explodes from him, quick, messy, and with a hoarse shout. Castiel shortly follows him, his release painting Dean’s cheeks. 

“Thank fuck we are in the shower,” Dean pants, feeling a little lethargic in his orgasmic glow. He relaxes against Castiel, closing his eyes and letting the water beat against his skin. 

“Can’t relax now, gotta get to work,” Cas sassily replies, smacking an obnoxious kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. 

Groaning in dismay, Dean agrees and the two get ready for work. He doesn’t want to get go, but he readily admits work is so much more enjoyable now that Dean has Cas with him. The dragon makes everything more agreeable. He has picked up the customer service side of things with ease, and people now call and ask for Cas, rather than he or Bobby. 

When they get to work, it’s Bobby on the phone with Mrs. Butters, her loud brash voice ringing through the speaker, “But, Cas will understand what’s wrong with the car, last time he just listened to the noise the engine was making and he _knew_.”

“I understand Mrs Butters, I’ll put him on right now. Just one moment,” and Bobby passes the phone over with a broad smirk under his beard. 

“She wants you Cas, again. Never little ol’ me,” Bobby teases, phone dancing in his hand. 

Cas smiles and takes the phone, covering the receiver with his hand. 

“Leave him be, Bobby. Cas deserves the loyalty of our customers.” 

Dean is passionate in his statement, and then realises he doesn't need to be as both Cas and Bobby are smirking at him now, hiding their laughter. It’s one thing to wind him up, but they should never tease him about Cas, not ever. Dean would never admit it, but he’s still insecure about his relationship with Cas. He’s still terrified that he’ll lose the dragon. One day he’ll wake up and the love of his life would have decided to be with someone better, Castiel will be gone leaving Dean with nothing. 

Dean knows that Castiel has his own insecurities. The dragon is obsessed with being useful to Dean, proving himself and earning his keep around the house. Dean’s house has never been cleaner and he works so hard at the garage. 

Really the dragon has taken to reception like a duck to water and has every rich old lady (and some of the men) eating out of his hand. When he is on a roll it’s like butter won’t melt in his mouth. He turns those big blue eyes on them with the “I’m listening” look, and they agree to pay any sum for the work that needs doing. Cas is not just a pretty face, he cashes out the till like he was born to it, and develops an unhealthy obsession with office supplies.

Dean feels so proud as he watches his dragon deal with customers, answer several phones at once, and produce invoices and inventories with ease. Lunch times are the three of them, plus whoever else is in the shop that stops in and shares the lunch bagels, donuts, or subs from local places.

It’s a sunny afternoon, and the crumbs from lunch are long gone. Dean’s looking forward to quitting time. The Chevy he’s working on is a real lady, but Cas promised him some sexy time earlier, and he wants to hold him to his word.

The pair are busy packing up tools for the day. Well, Cas is done, and he is ‘helping’ his keeper finish up.

“Cas, knock it off, the torque wrench doesn’t go there...You know that!” Dean can’t help but laugh at his dragon. Cas is in a particularly playful mood, and is enjoying pretending he doesn’t know where the tools go or what they’re for. Dragon and Keeper have descended into pointy finger rib jabs as they dance around each other playing keepings off with a pair of jumper cables.

Dean catches sight of Bobby first.

“Stop, Cas, hang on. Bobby, look. Bobby, what’s wrong?”

Dean is wondering who has died, Bobby looks so concerned.

“Cool yer jets, boy. No one has snuffed it. C’mon and sit, the both of you.”

Bobby gestures at the lunch table with its red vinyl chairs, and Dean and Cas each pull one and sit. Dean puts a comforting hand on Castiel’s back, fingers splayed and idly making patterns with his fingers. Dean can tell from Bobby’s face that this is something seriously wrong.

“Boys, there’s no use me beating around the bush. I had a visitor today while you were back here eating your lunches. I didn’t care for his tone, and he was sniffing around tryna find out both your names and how long you’d been here, Cas.”

Dean looks at Cas, his brows furrowed with confusion.

“Cas, who would want to…”

His sentence is cut off as Cas turns to Bobby. “What did he look like, Bobby?”

“About yea high,” Bobby returned, gesturing about head height, “He was fair with blue eyes, but kinda pale, and greasy. Too neat if you ask me. He wanted to know if I knew where his _betrothed_ was.”

Dean turns to Cas, face full of concern, “Cas? Is this Naomi’s doing?”

The dragon leans into Dean’s touch, then dropps his head into his hands. He lets out a low groan and threads his fingers through his hair and then looks up, gaze glancing between Dean and Bobby. Fear and worry marring his face. Castiel speaks more so to Bobby, words slow and hesitant, “Bobby, my family, my court...they want me to return for one thing. To bear offspring. There are long standing agreements and treaties that link my name to Bart. _Bartholomew_.” The name feels slimy and wrong as he spits it from his mouth. 

“Dean has met Naomi, my superior of the court. She tried to get me to return, to abandon my keeper, to leave my place at his side, but I never will,” Cas turns to Dean in that moment “Dean, Keeper, please believe me, I don’t want to go.”

Dean is wide eyed and speechless as Cas gathers Dean’s hands into his own. His lips trembling, “I swear we will be soul bound as soon as you can fly with confidence. I swear this on my name and the names of my ancestors.”

Bobby is looking anywhere but at Dean and Castiel. The windows to the glassed in office area are suddenly fascinating and he chews on the side of his moustache.

“Cas, I believe, you. You’re making Bobby here uncomfortable,” Dean laughs awkwardly, smoothing back Castiel’s hair and placing a kiss in the middle of his forehead. 

“ _Dean-”_ Castiel starts again, his face open and earnest and so young, but Dean hushes him with a quick kiss on the lips, “Let's go home, talk this through without an audience, ok?” 

Grumbling, Castiel agrees. He’s quiet on the car ride home. The engine of Baby loud between them. Dean doesn’t bother putting on music, reading Castiel’s mood as too pensive to enjoy the amazing talent of Robert Plant. The horde in his pocket jingling with every turn of his hand. 

After Dean parks the car in the driveway, he reaches over and pulls one of Castiel’s hands into his own. Bringing it up to his lips, Dean places a lingering kiss and rests Castiel’s hand between his own against his chest. His heart beating loudly even to himself. 

“Cas,” Dean starts, “You don’t need to swear anything or prove anything to me. I know I’ve got some screws loose when it comes to our relationship. Half the time I worry that you are going to wake up and realize that you could be doing _sooo_ much better than me. But don’t let my shit make you scared. Baby, I _know_ you don’t want to go back to them.” 

Quiet, brokenly, Cas whispers, “As my guardian, you have all the power to send me away.” 

“Cas, I don’t want you to go. I will never ask you to go. I want you to stay with me for as long as you want to,” Dean answers, meeting Castiel’s eyes in a quiet moment, “I love you. I’m askin’ you to stay. We’ll go, get bonded. I want this with you.” 

“Of course, I’ll stay, Dean,” Castiel answers, pulling him into a hug. Arm tight around Dean’s neck, he murmurs, “I love you, too.” 

The hug is long, both men sink into the embrace and the reassurances, taking comfort in the lines of each other’s bodies. Dean commits everything to memory, the feel of his lover’s skin, the smell of the leather seats along with Cas’s own personal comforting scent tickling his nostrils, and even the warming cab in the sun. Eventually, Dean pulls away, clapping Cas on the back of the neck and bringing the other man in for a soft kiss. Soft chapped lips are pliant against his. Kisses turn into soft nuzzling and eventually the intimacy fades. 

“Let’s get some air time, yeah?” 

With an eager smile, Cas practically bolts out of the Impala and to the backyard. Shedding his clothing, his preferred method to fly, as he goes. Dean laughs, following. Distracted from picking up Castiel’s clothes, he runs headlong into the dragon’s back. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Castiel hisses out, teeth mashed together at the offending figure in the middle of their field. 

Dressed in a cheap suit, wearing a slimy smile, the man throws what is left of their saddle at Castiel’s feet. 

“Castiel,” he simpers, voice full of fake sweetness, “lovely to see you. I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“ _Leave_.” 

“Now, Castiel, that is no way to talk to your betrothed. The future father of your children,” the man snarks back. 

“You are _nothing_ to me,” Castiel all but roars. His body is larger than life, protecting and shielding Dean.

“How dare you!” the man, Dean knows as Bart now, “You are a broken shell of a dragon! You should be honored that I chose you, that I pitied you enough to be my breeding stock! Instead, you're out here on earth whoring yourself to this ape!” 

“I am no whore,” Castiel growls, “And you need to leave.” 

“If I do, you are coming with me.”

Feeling an undeniable escalation, Dean darts into the garage and pulls out the Barrett .50 cal he purchased after Naomi showed up. He hears the roars of fully formed dragons and the flash of fire through the garage window. Loading the clip with steady hands, Dean takes a deep breath. He’s not gonna let that asshole take Castiel. 

Horrified, Dean watches the two dragons fight. It’s a tangle of limbs, wings, and snapping jaws. Castiel roars and bites everywhere he can reach. Bartholomew is a bigger dragon, but Castiel is quick… his jaw and claws like lightning striking against the other man. Setting up his gun, Dean waits patiently for an opening. 

Wings spread, jaws snap, and Castiel seems born to be a fighter. 

Dean isn’t worried until Bart uses his body weight to pin Castiel. Hidden in the tall grass on his belly, Dean lines up, eye in the scope, and makes his mark. Ears ringing, dragon roaring and flailing from the shot Dean took straight through his wing. 

Another shot, another bullet sinking into the enemy dragon’s flesh. 

Bartholomew, the coward, roars and launches himself into the sky. With one last cheap shot, a slash against Castiel’s chest, he flies away. Dean switches on the safety, leaving the gun in the grass, and runs to the transformed Castiel. 

Laying in the middle of the field, Castiel the man, groans when Dean sinks to his knees next to him. He’s cut up pretty badly, but a shining light from within glows and his flesh knits up slowly before Dean’s eyes. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean scolds, gathering his lover’s face in his hands. 

“Not planning on it,” Castiel grunts, “I think we should hold off flying for a while. The saddle is ruined.” 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean replies, incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. It makes Castiel smile softly, he emits a broken chuckle and then a small pathetic groan. Dean gathers his dragon to his chest, making a slow trek to the house. Pressing a soft kiss to his temple, Dean holds him close, grateful that everything will be ok. 

They fly up in the clouds, high where the air is cool and quiet. Castiel skims the highest of lowest clouds, keeping in mind Dean’s tolerance for cold temperatures.They had started at midnight, Castiel had insisted, he was way too anxious to sleep anyways. Dean had created a bed in the modified saddle that is currently strapped securely between Castiel’s enormous wings. Although Dean is snuggled and buckled between their bags and equipment, he hasn’t slept much, preferring to watch out at the dark sky over the powerful beats of his dragon’s wings. 

Flying to Canada on the back of a dragon is very different than being stuffed in a tin can death trap for eighteen plus hours. Dean feels free, the sky is huge and the view is awesome in the moonlight, even if he is a little chilly. After spending all the day in the air with his dragon, Dean is starting to feel the wind nip at his face and hands through his layers. He’s completely covered head to toe, Castiel had insisted but he’s immensely grateful to his dragon. Dean couldn’t imagine the ride without Castiel’s planning and attention to detail. 

Dean feels the slow descent of Castiel’s body, getting closer to the treetops in the Aurora circle. The light in the sky shifts colors as the sun makes its slow journey to the horizon and dips below. It’s romantic, the sky takes a pink hue and Dean hopes the whole experience will turn into a romantic getaway, he’s booked a cabin at one of the local lodges in Yellowknife for their exclusive use once the bonding ceremony is complete. 

Lower and lower Castiel goes, until his great wings are skimming the tips of trees. When they land, it’s a soft thud into fresh snow. Dean pats at scales he can reach, untangles himself from the luggage and ropes, and jumps off the saddle to pull everything into the snow. 

“Good flyin’, ace,” Dean calls. Dean is quick to work, Castiel’s enormous eyes watching his every move. Occasionally nuzzling him with his great big snout, only pushing Dean into the snow once. Dean throws a handful of snow in the middle of his nose, making Castiel snort with dragon amusement. 

When the tiny tent is up, strictly for Castiel’s comfort, Dean ducks in and sets everything up, even pulling out thicker clothes for Castiel to put on quickly. Dean grabs some branches and materials for Castiel to set fire to. With an air of graceful ease, the dragon breathes fire and the logs take alight. It gives Dean instant goosebumps. Castiel is so majestic and beautiful and _sexy_. 

Castiel shrinks himself back with a burst of light to the tiny dragon Dean knew as Folgers. He crawls into Dean’s clothing right up against the warm skin of his chest. The dragon is cool but quickly warms and Dean rubs the little body with a smile on his face. He loves this little dragon, Castiel at his full size is majestic and powerful, but when he’s small like this… Dean loves the intimacy of having something cute and tiny pressed close to him. He can feel the dragon squirm around, tickling him in the process. 

“Hold your horses,” Dean scolds, smoothing his hand over his chest and the dragon, “Alright, we’re ready.” 

Castiel shimmies out and launches himself at the pile of thick winter clothing Dean has laid out for him, making Dean laugh as a burst of blue light fills the tent. Castiel, the man, glowers at him while he’s pulling on the thick winter gear.

“You try being practically naked in 17 degree weather,” he snipes, jerking on a beanie over his tousled hair. Removing the ski mask, Dean leans and kisses Castiel causing the other man to let out a little hum of a moan. 

“You had your long johns on! And look sunshine, you're the one who wanted to do the ceremony in the wilderness and not in the comfort of the lodge’s hot tub,” Dean teases and kisses Castiel again. 

“I didn’t want to freak out the other guests,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s lips, only slightly pouting. 

“It’s only for a little while, you landed us next to the lodge?” Dean questions, pulling out the items needed for the bonding ceremony. Knife and rope are shoved into his pocket while Castiel pulls on his boots. 

“Twenty minute walk, just out of eyesight around the lake,” Castiel replies, “Good hike.” 

Dean grunts, watching Castiel pull on more and more layers. Watching Castiel dress is his least favorite activity, he prefers the unlayering of Castiel much better. They break down the tent together, and Castiel stokes the fire watching Dean with hungry eyes.

They sit in silence, enjoying the sky darkening and waiting for it to light up the wavering blue green. The light dances across the sky, entrancing and so beautiful. Dean watches the waves dance and flicker, mesmerized. Ethereal, magical, light fills them both up. 

“You ready, my beloved?” Castiel asks, the fire lighting his casting him in a warm glow. 

“Ready.”

Dean pulls out the knife and rope, handing them over easily to his lover. Dean bites at the tip of gloves, easily pulling them off and stuffing them in pocket and Castiel does the same. They stand close to the fire, one of Dean’s hands clasped in Castiel’s. 

“This will sting,” whispers Castiel, the quiet of the snow and forest almost oppressive against them. Castiel gingerly rolls Dean’s hand, cutting a gash in its center and then slices his own. He drops the knife in the snow, taking the rope from Dean’s other hand and looping it over their pressed palms. 

“Normally, the ceremony is in Enochian,” Castiel says holding on to the rope, fiddling with it lightly, “But I’d prefer English. So you can understand the vows we are speaking between us.” 

“I’d like that, it’s more like a wedding that way,” Dean whispers, blush tinging his cheeks. 

Stilling his movements Castiel looks cautiously at Dean, “It is a lot like a wedding.” 

“Having second thoughts?” 

“No, my love. I want to walk through life with you,” Castiel states a little nervously, “You?”

“Castiel,” Dean swallows looking in those blue eyes, “I need you… I love you. I am honored to stand here with you today and for the rest of my days.” 

Smiling so large that his nose and eyes crinkle up adorably, Castiel holds on to Dean’s tightly. They stare into each other’s eyes, the forest around them so quiet it’s almost loud. Dean can practically hear his blood rush through his veins. He imagines he can feel their blood intermingling in their palms, Castiel’s blood electrifying and sparking a change within him. Their breath creates little mist clouds in the air between them. 

“I’ll start then,” Castiel clears his throat, “It is believed by dragons that a true bonding under the Northern Lights will be blessed with endless love and passion that will carry on even into the afterlife. Upon entering Valhalla, a dragon and its rider become a torch of light in the sky. These Northern Lights are our ancestors and like the ones who have walked before us, we enter this bond knowing that we will serve as a guardian to all.” 

Dean nods, encouraging Castiel to continue on. 

“Today, I, Castiel of Lawrencia, state my intentions beneath the lights of my ancestors. I bare my soul to my rider, my guardian, my keeper, Dean Winchester,” Castiel bites his lip, holding on to Dean’s hand tight and staring into Dean’s eyes. He nods as if answering his own question and continues on, “A traditional handfasting along with the exchange of blood will create the bond. So uh, repeat after me and if pain comes, just hold on.” Castiel reaches up with his other hand to wipe snow away from Dean’s brow. A loving smile playing on his lips. 

Castiel passes the very long rope over their hands after each statement. Dean's palm burns, he sees the fire growing between Castiel’s fingertips, but he holds fast and his gaze doesn’t stray from Castiel’s eyes. Breathing deep he repeats after the love of his life, “ _Today, I vow many things; I shall do my best to protect you from worldly pain, always rejoice in your joy, to share in your hardships and toil, believe in your dreams, honor and respect you as my equal, and only use my anger to strengthen and temper our bond. I share my soul with you, my guardian._ ” 

Taking a deep breath against the burning pain, Dean repeats each word after Castiel. Gritting his teeth and hissing through the literal fire, “...I share my soul with you, my dragon.” 

The blue fire ignites between their palms, Dean wincing but holding tight, green eyes never leaving Castiel’s blue. The rope burns away and Castiel quickly pulls Dean to his body and heals Dean’s cut and burns before he can pass out from the pain. 

“You did so well my love,” Castiel praises, kissing his palm and then his lips, “So very well. Words cannot express how much I love you.” 

“ _O’ fuck,_ ” Dean gasps out, shaking his hand. Feeling the residual fire clinging to his flesh. Castiel nervously chuckles, trying to smooth out Dean’s clothes and comfort the older man. 

“Could have warned a guy,” Dean retorts, flexings his fingers. 

“I didn’t know for sure that was going to happen,” Castiel replies, his own healed hand cupping Dean’s face, “It was a reflection of our bond.” 

“What? That you set me on fire?” 

Laughing, Castiel kisses him. Though it's more teeth than a true kiss, “I suppose you can say that I’ve set you aflame. Let’s go to the lodge, relax in that hot tub and get some sleep?” 

“Sounds like an awesome plan, sunshine.” 

  
  


-end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Thank you, everyone for reading Light My Fire! Both Feathers & I hope you enjoyed it. 
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> Much love, ioascc. 


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